Canada blushes deeper and looks down at his food. France frowns slightly. If he can’t see these things for himself, he’s been in his brother’s shadow for too long. He wonders if he could have fought harder to keep the blond nation for himself, all those years ago.
“Mais, j’ne suis pas si plein d’energy qu’Al. J’ne suis pas si special. »
« Matthieu, regarde-moi. » France says strictly. Canada obeys. « Tu es vraiment special. Si Angleterre et Amerique sont trop con pour le realizer, c’est leur faut. Quand je dis que c’est une plaisir d’être avec toi, c’est vrai. »
Canada is quiet for a minute. “D’accord.”
They return to their meal, and the conversation turns to lighter topics. As they converse, France’s hyperawareness of Canada’s voice only increases. The food is excellent, and his wine glass never seems to be empty. When the conversation turns to hockey, and Canada’s voice and vocabulary both get rougher, he’s not sure he can take it any more.
“Mattieu,” he says, interrupting the other. Canada looks pauses mid-phrase. France leans across the table, stopping just before their lips touch, looking for permission. The anger slides from Canada’s face, and his eyes slide closed. That’s all the permission he needs.
Canada’s lips are softer than he would have thought, and taste of the expensive wine they’ve been drinking. There’s light stubble on his cheek, and his kiss is awkward, but not as inexperienced as France had expected. Canada is the first to open his mouth, but France obliges quickly.
When they break away, Canada is wearing an adorable blush, and France can’t tell if his face is the same or not.
“Ma salle est juste là,” Canada whispers, and hearing those words, in that accent, sends a jolt down the older nation’s spine. He almost has to bit back a moan. Instead, he grins and nods.
They can’t get to the bedroom fast enough. It isn’t until this moment that France realizes how much he’s been noticing about the other nation, these past two days. The arch or his cheek, the curve of his spine, the contour of his collarbone are already familiar to him. He sits on the edge of the bed and tugs off his shirt. Canada straddles him and kisses him, both hands on his cheeks.
France’s hands find his lower back quickly, his thumbs rubbing circles into the other man’s flesh. Canada leans down on him, and he falls back obligingly. Their chests are pressed close together, now, separated only by the thin fabric of Canada’s shirt. France tugs at it softly. Canada lets him tug it off, and then leans down to kiss at his neck.
Please let me know what you think, and if there's anything wrong with the French aside from missed accents, please let me know. Hopefully I'll write the rest tomorrow.
Re: Fill [4/?]
anonymous
July 21 2010, 19:35:29 UTC
France's description has got me falling in love with Canada's accent and I've never even heard it. And this: « Oui, c’est un ville très belle. » he replies. « Comme tous le pays, vraiment. » France is such a charmer. And he speaks the truth.
My French isn't good enough to point out mistakes but I did notice that at certain points you switch between guillemets and quotation marks mid sentence. No biggie, just something to look out for.
*author!anon*
anonymous
July 21 2010, 19:50:30 UTC
He totally is. :3
My computer automatically uses guillemets when it thinks I'm typing French and quotation marks when it think I'm typing English, and it is often wrong. But fixing it is kind of complicated (or maybe I'm just missing something) and they mean the same thing anyways, so I just left it.
Re: Fill [4/?]
anonymous
July 21 2010, 19:40:00 UTC
this is such a nice fill, I hope you continue!
there was quite a bit of French though... and not all of it seemed to be translated by Google correctly when this anon tried that - so would it be possible if the translations could be included within the story somehow? may make it easier to follow
Re: Fill [4/?]
anonymous
July 21 2010, 20:13:10 UTC
alsjhfalfgasfa Francophile anon is feeling a little hot right now after all that français *fans self*
Well apart from the few missed accents, the french seemed okay for me, or at least I could read it fine (Although Québec french can get so much more garbled, I'm glad you kept it fairly simplistic, sometimes I can barely read it for all the shortcuts they take XD)There was one sentence that seemed a tad off, but I'm not entirely fluent in the language to make a mountain out of a molehill.
That being said, CONTINUE, dear god continue for the sake of my poor language kink loving soul! Oh god, the chemistry you write them with is awesome ;u; First Franada fic I've read in a long time that reminds me how much I love them both <333 sincerely, humble Ontarian anon
(Ffff, I know, right. ><; I'm not good enough at French do to that, though.) There are a few sentences that seem a bit off, to me, and being the lazy person I am, I didn't even run it though Bon Patron. *shaaaame* But I think it gets the point across, at least.
I'm working on it now. It's been a little while since I wrote smut, but hopefully it will still be good. >< D`aaawwww, thanks. 8//D
(author!anon is in Halifax, but plans to move to Montreal next year.)
Re: Fill [4/?]
anonymous
July 21 2010, 20:20:25 UTC
Oho anon you tease~
I couldn't help but snicker at every ouais I saw, in my area they pronounce it 'wheyn' with a very light n and it makes it inherently more funny than it should be.
Great so far, I like the pace, though I think some people my get turned off by all the French, maybe post translations? Not at the end, but like this: "Frenchfrenchfrench" englishenglishenglish I followed it fine, but you never know, and I find that way of translating isn't too intrusive for the reader.
Hey look, the smut is done! 8D Many thanks for all your wonderful feedback. Comments make me write faster, and I love all of you At the end of this, I'll post translations, but Ill probably do a short morning after type thing, as well. Without further ado, here it is.
France lets his hands trace abstract patterns over Canada’s back, just barely touching. Canada shivers and arches ever so slightly. He nips at the older nation’s collar bone. France gasps lightly.
“Mathieu,” he whispers, and shifts more towards the center of the bed, taking the other with him. Canada’s fingers grapple with the other’s belt for a minute, his brows knitting together in concentration. France chuckles lightly and undoes it, wondering how much wine Canada has had. Enough to dissipate his usual shyness, it seems, but he’s still fully aware. He lifts his hips so Canada can pull his pants off, and toes off his socks a minute later. Canada leans down to kiss him again, full of passion and need. Their tongues move together, their teeth clack.
France rolls them so he’s on top, and kisses down the other nation’s jaw. Canada groans softly, his hands coming to France’s shoulders. The older nation continues down his neck, stopping to lap and suck at the junction between neck and shoulder, because the mark of his language isn’t enough. He wants to own all of this, in a way he hasn’t felt in years.
His fingers dance over skin, teasing and light. His mouth continues downwards, more vicious now, nipping where he pleases, because he needs to mark this, and make sure everyone knows Canada is his even after all these years. Canada moans, his eyes closed.
France tugs at the other nation’s boxers, and Canada raises his hips obligingly. The sight of the other man completely nude beneath his is breathtaking. His soft hair falling around a flushed face, his glasses askew, red marks blooming on his neck and chest.
He leans in to kiss the younger nation, deeply, passionately. His fingers tease at Canada’s nipples, and he moans. France swallows the noise eagerly, but it’s not enough. He wants to hear more of that voice. He wants to hear Canada begging for him, pleading for release.
His mouth starts downwards again, but this time, he has a destination in mind. Canada leans up on his elbows, watching half-breathlessly as France trails kisses past his navel and pushes his legs farther apart. Canada is well-endowed, to say the least. France is excited to taste it, but decides to wait, instead pressing a kiss to the inside of the other man’s thigh. Canada gasps slightly, frustration clear on his face.
France licks the same place, maintaining eye contact as he does. Canada tries to glare at him, but the lust in his eyes overwhelms the anger. France grins up at him and kisses down his leg, stopping to leave a red mark before continuing on. He kneels up and licks the top of Canada’s calf tauntingly. (It’s not smooth like a woman would be: unshaven and muscled and perhaps more satisfying for it.)
Canada whines quietly in the back of his throat, his eyes begging France to bring his mouth back where he wants it.
“France, please,” he whispers, looking away as he says it.
“En Français,” France replies, grinning.
« France, s’il te plaît... » He’s still looking away, his hair covering his eyes, but his face is bright red. The words go straight to France’s crotch, and he grins widely.
“Ca c’est meilleur,” he says, and licks up Canada’s length. Canada moans and falls back flat on the bed.
He takes the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue and watching Canada’s barely-visible face as he does so. Canada’s hands fist in the covers; his breath comes fast. France’s hand grips his sack, kneading it as he psyches himself up to go deeper. Canada’s pretty big, but France does not back down from such a delicious challenge.
He pulls off the head and mouths down the side, letting his stubbled cheek brush Canada’s thigh. Canada moans and shudders, and the noises are like music to France’s ears.
“As-tu de lube?” he asks, looking up at the younger nation.
“Dans ma table d’chevet,” Canada mumbles, taking a second to answer. France leans over to grab it and a condom before returning to the task at hand.
When his nose is brushing Canada’s pubes, the other man’s cock heavy in his throat, he pauses for a moment. Canada’s mouth is open, each breath shallow and raspy. France hums quietly, his fingers resting lightly on the other man’s thighs. The noise the other nation makes is halfway between a shout and a moan.
He pulls off to tongue at the head, lubing up his fingers as he does. Canada lifts his head to look, his eyes half closed, his cheeks flushed. France grins and touches his entrance, half making sure Canada knows what he’s doing, half asking permission. Canada nods jerkily.
France slides one finger in, slowly, slowly, letting the other nation get used to it. He’s sure the other man’s done it before: who hasn’t, among them? But he’s not entirely used to it (comme certaines salopes anglaises.) Canada takes a shaky breath to steady himself, and relaxes. France smiles and moves his finger in and out a few times. When he’s sure the other nation is ready, he adds another. Canada moans quietly at the sensation. France’s other hand rests on the younger nation’s inner thigh, his thumb subconsciously rubbing little circles on the sensitive flesh.
He scissors gently, and curls his fingers, trying to find that one spot. Canada writhes a bit, his fists still tangled in the covers.
“A-Ahh, câlisse, France, there!”
The words go straight to France’s groin. He bites back a quiet moan and repeats the motion. He is rewarded by a string of bilingual cursing, rough and husky from the other nation. He decides instantly that as much as this is a grave offence to his beautiful language, he needs to hear more of it.
He continues for several minutes, sitting up higher so he can see the other nation’s face as he comes undone, French and English and sounds of no language at all running together unconsciously, his breath getting increasingly shallow. Just as Canada is about to come, France pulls out, leaving no contact between them.
Canada keens loudly and rolls his hips upwards, trying to find any bit of friction.
“France, please, for fuck’s sake, just-“
“En Français,” France says sternly, making a show of rolling the condom on as slowly as possible.
“Tabernac, France, je t’en prie!” Canada moans. His toes curl and uncurl in the sheets.
“C’est quoi que tu veux?” France teases, slicking himself up.
« Tu sais que j’veux ! Sacrement, juste l’faire ! »
France smiles and pushes in, intending to go slowly, but Canada bucks closer and says something obscene and he loses control, just for a moment, slamming in. They both moan at the feeling, and Canada wraps his arms around the other nation and tugs, rolling them so he’s on top.
Caught off-guard, France blinks up at him, his breath catching slightly. Canada places his hands on France’s stomach and pants quietly for a moment, before lifting himself up and slamming back down, riding France’s cock.
It only takes France a second to come to his bearings and lift his hips to meet the other nations. Canada picks a fast rhythm, quivering with the strain as he moves, his hair bouncing.
“Mathieu,” France growls, his hands on Canada’s hips probably gripping hard enough to leave bruises. Canada moves one hand to his cock, jerking himself in time to their movement, and it’s all France can do to watch the show before him.
Canada comes with a shout, his seed falling on France’s chest. The sight of him is what pushes France over the edge, thrusting a few more times as he comes.
Canada takes a few shuddering breaths before half-falling to the side, breathing hard. France stays where he is for a moment, catching his breath, before grabbing a tissue from the night table to wipe himself off. He throws that and the used condom in the trash before curling himself around the taller nation, one arm wrapped protectively around him.
Actually, maybe I'll do the morning-after bit before the translations... Hope you don't mind.
When France wakes up, the first thing he notices is that his back is too cold. Secondly, his legs are tangled up in someone else. Third, whoever it is smells quite nice. He smiles as he opens his eyes. Morning that start like this are always a good sign. His vision is filled with silky blond hair, much like his own. His smile gets wider as he remembers last night. They’ll have to do that again sometime. (Perhaps now, even, says a voice in his head.)
He leans up on his elbow to press a kiss to Canada’s neck. Canada rolls his shoulder up in protest and mumbles something.
“Bon matin, mon petit lapin,” he whispers, deciding to kiss Canada’s shoulder instead.
“J’suis plus grand que toi,” Canada replies, turning slightly to look at him. “And your kisses are too stubbly.” France makes a fake-offended face and rubs his cheek against Canada’s. Canada pushed him away half-heartedly and sits up.
“I need a shower,” he announces. “And breakfast.”
“Let’s shower together, then,” France suggests, looking up lazily at the other nation.
“The shower here’s too small for that,” Canada informs him. “I’ll make sure to leave some hot water for you, though.”
“You better.”
Canada laughs and climbs off the bed, heading for the door. France watches appreciatively. A few moments later, he hears the shower start up. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair.
Remembering the sort of food Canada seems to think is breakfast food, he resolves to make their breakfast himself today, and heads for the kitchen, stretching widely.
TRANSLATIONS (You might want to open this in a different tab.)
anonymous
July 21 2010, 23:11:28 UTC
Translations
If you’ve not already, I recommend opening this in a separate tab, because there is a fuck-ton of French in this, and you might need it. The translations are not so much literal as what I want it to mean. If I’ve failed, please let me know.
le sale connard - the f*cking bastard
Bonjour/Salut - hello
Tu parles encore la Francais, alors? - So you still speak French?
Ouais, c’est une de mes langues officielles, tu sais. - Yeah, it’s one of my official languages, y'know.
Je suis si fier de toi! Tu as continué avec ma belle langue tous ces ans ! - I’m so proud of you! You kept speaking my lovely language all these years!
C’est maintenent autant le mien que le votre. - It’s as much mine as yours, now.
Alors, comment ca va ? Tu as bien dormi ? - So how are you doing? Did you sleep well?
Oui, pendant treize heurs ! Je ne croyait pas que je peut dormir si longtemps ! - Yes, for 13 hours! I didn’t think I could sleep so long!
C’est un vol longue. - It was a long flight. (Now that I look back, should that have been C’etait un vol longue?)
Veut-tu que je continue en Francais ou anglais ? - Do you want me to keep going in French or English?
Les deux sont bons. - Either way is fine.
Mathieu, je ne vais jamais manger ca. - Matthew, I will not eat that.
L’essayer ! Je sais comment il regarde, mais c’est delicieux ! - Try it! I know how it looks, but it’s so good.
Ce n’est même pas le nourriture! J’ai pensé que tu as hérité mon sens de goût, pas ce d’Angleterre ! - It’s not even food! I thought you got your sense of taste from me, not England!
Ouvre le bouche. - Open your mouth.
C’est bon, ouais? - It’s good, right?
Alors, tu aimes Montréal ? - So you like Montreal?
Oui, c’est un ville très belle. Comme tous le pays, vraiment. - Yeah, it’s a beautiful city. Like the whole country, really.
Tu me flatte. - You’re flattering me.
Non, c’est vrai. Je pense que t’es un des plus bels pays que j’ai jamais vu. - No, it’s true. I think you’re one of the most beautiful countries I’ve ever seen.
Je pense que tu dis ça a tous le monde. - I think you say that to everyone.
Je ne suis jamais manqueur, Mathieu. C’est vrai. - I never lie, Matthew. It’s true. (Except it should be menteur, there, instead of manqueur. ORZ)
Merci - Thanks
Mais tu as visité des pays vraiments bels, ouais ? J’ne pourrais pas être le plus bel. - But you’ve visited a lot of pretty counties, right ? I can’t be the most beautiful.
As du confidence. Et tu n’est juste bel. Tu es aussi si gentil et plein d’energie. C’est vraiment un plaisir d’être avec toi. - Have some confidence. And you’re not only good-looking. You’re also kind and full of energy. It’s a pleasure to spend time with you.
Mais, j’ne suis pas si plein d’energy qu’Al. J’ne suis pas si special. - But I’m not full of energy like Al. I’m not that special.
Matthieu, regarde-moi. Tu es vraiment special. Si Angleterre et Amerique sont trop con pour le realizer, c’est leur faut. Quand je dis que c’est une plaisir d’être avec toi, c’est vrai. - Matthew, look at me. You really are special. If England and America are too stupid to realize it, that’s their fault. If I say it’s a pleasure to spend time with you, it’s true.
D’accord - Alright
Ma salle est juste là - My room is right there.
En Français - In French
France, s’il te plait - France, please.
Ca c’est meilleu Now that’s better.
As-tu de lube? - Do you have any lube?
Dans ma table d’chevet - In the night table.
comme certaines salopes anglaises - like certain English sluts
câlisse - fuck
Tabernac, France, je t’en prie ! - For fuck’s sake, France, I’m begging you!
C’est quoi que tu veux ? - What is it you want, then?
Tu sais que j’veux ! Sacrement, juste l’faire ! - You know what I want! Jesus, just do it!
Bon matin, mon petit lapin. - Good morning, my little bunny.
J’suis plus grand que toi. - I’m bigger than you are.
Re: TRANSLATIONS (You might want to open this in a different tab.)
anonymous
July 22 2010, 02:24:33 UTC
jgaskfjgas HNNNNNNG <33 Ontarian-anon LOVES you SO much for finishing this prompt so fast ;u; Seriously, you can have my love, unborn children, soul.
Language kink is once again sated ;u; Mon dieu, le français! LE FRANÇAIS! C'est trop fantastique! J'adore tu anon. Merci pour le fill impressionnant! *adds to memories* Captcha: workaday hard, Yes captcha, I'm sure authoranon did work hard =u=
hope you don't mind some french beta~
anonymous
July 22 2010, 04:51:48 UTC
French-Canadian anon here! ;) I sooooo understand your language kink - I have the same! And while it doesn't distract that much from the loveliness of your fill (♥ everyone makes mistakes, and I'm sure I make more in English than you did here!), I could correct a few of these grammatical mistakes for you, if you want. :)
Tu parles encore la Francais, alors? Like most languges (althout the word langue is feminine), Français is a masuline noun - so it would be le, not la.
C’est maintenent autant le mien que le votre; since you use tu and not vous in the rest of the fill, tiens would be more appropriate than vôtre.
C’est un vol longue. should be, indeed, c'était, in the past, and longue should be long, since vol is masculine.
I also suggest using beau instead of bel/i> when you mean pretty, beautiful or attractive. Beau is easier to use - bel (not to be confused with belle, the feminine form of beau) is always before the noun, and even then, only when the noun start with a vowel. Beau is used is all other cases. :) So it's un bel arbre but cet arbre est beau, or c'est un beau garçon and ce garçon est beau.
Je ne suis jamais manqueur; ahah, yes, menteur, or you could say Je ne mens jamais, that would sound more natural and is actually closer to the translation you wrote. ;)
As du confidence... is... I wouldn't know what you meant, ahah. Seeing your translation, I'd say «Fais-toi confiance», like, believe in yourself.
And last, room, as in bedroom, is chambre, and in your sentence, better would be mieux.
I could also add some things about Quebec French, since it's, well, my language, but I think you're doing pretty damn well! Even for us it's hard to write down without becoming joual or just a parody. Don't be afraid to use slang! ;) Also, France French has some pretty cool slang that we don't have in Quebec, too, you should look it up if you're interested in that stuff!
*author!anon*
anonymous
July 22 2010, 18:19:19 UTC
Dammit, I should have caught almost all of that! >O *sigh*
The confidence bit is probably the only one I wouldn't have got if I'd been thinking things through properly. This is all very helpful, though. Thank you for taking the time. :3
“Mais, j’ne suis pas si plein d’energy qu’Al. J’ne suis pas si special. »
« Matthieu, regarde-moi. » France says strictly. Canada obeys. « Tu es vraiment special. Si Angleterre et Amerique sont trop con pour le realizer, c’est leur faut. Quand je dis que c’est une plaisir d’être avec toi, c’est vrai. »
Canada is quiet for a minute. “D’accord.”
They return to their meal, and the conversation turns to lighter topics. As they converse, France’s hyperawareness of Canada’s voice only increases. The food is excellent, and his wine glass never seems to be empty. When the conversation turns to hockey, and Canada’s voice and vocabulary both get rougher, he’s not sure he can take it any more.
“Mattieu,” he says, interrupting the other. Canada looks pauses mid-phrase. France leans across the table, stopping just before their lips touch, looking for permission. The anger slides from Canada’s face, and his eyes slide closed. That’s all the permission he needs.
Canada’s lips are softer than he would have thought, and taste of the expensive wine they’ve been drinking. There’s light stubble on his cheek, and his kiss is awkward, but not as inexperienced as France had expected. Canada is the first to open his mouth, but France obliges quickly.
When they break away, Canada is wearing an adorable blush, and France can’t tell if his face is the same or not.
“Ma salle est juste là,” Canada whispers, and hearing those words, in that accent, sends a jolt down the older nation’s spine. He almost has to bit back a moan. Instead, he grins and nods.
They can’t get to the bedroom fast enough. It isn’t until this moment that France realizes how much he’s been noticing about the other nation, these past two days. The arch or his cheek, the curve of his spine, the contour of his collarbone are already familiar to him. He sits on the edge of the bed and tugs off his shirt. Canada straddles him and kisses him, both hands on his cheeks.
France’s hands find his lower back quickly, his thumbs rubbing circles into the other man’s flesh. Canada leans down on him, and he falls back obligingly. Their chests are pressed close together, now, separated only by the thin fabric of Canada’s shirt. France tugs at it softly. Canada lets him tug it off, and then leans down to kiss at his neck.
Please let me know what you think, and if there's anything wrong with the French aside from missed accents, please let me know. Hopefully I'll write the rest tomorrow.
Reply
And this:
« Oui, c’est un ville très belle. » he replies. « Comme tous le pays, vraiment. »
France is such a charmer. And he speaks the truth.
My French isn't good enough to point out mistakes but I did notice that at certain points you switch between guillemets and quotation marks mid sentence. No biggie, just something to look out for.
Can't wait for the rest.~
Reply
My computer automatically uses guillemets when it thinks I'm typing French and quotation marks when it think I'm typing English, and it is often wrong. But fixing it is kind of complicated (or maybe I'm just missing something) and they mean the same thing anyways, so I just left it.
Reply
there was quite a bit of French though... and not all of it seemed to be translated by Google correctly when this anon tried that - so would it be possible if the translations could be included within the story somehow? may make it easier to follow
otherwise it's great so far, very IC too?
Reply
I'm hoping it's IC. I've written Canada a few times before, but this is my first time writing France. :O
Reply
Well apart from the few missed accents, the french seemed okay for me, or at least I could read it fine (Although Québec french can get so much more garbled, I'm glad you kept it fairly simplistic, sometimes I can barely read it for all the shortcuts they take XD)There was one sentence that seemed a tad off, but I'm not entirely fluent in the language to make a mountain out of a molehill.
That being said, CONTINUE, dear god continue for the sake of my poor language kink loving soul! Oh god, the chemistry you write them with is awesome ;u; First Franada fic I've read in a long time that reminds me how much I love them both <333
sincerely,
humble Ontarian anon
Reply
(Ffff, I know, right. ><; I'm not good enough at French do to that, though.) There are a few sentences that seem a bit off, to me, and being the lazy person I am, I didn't even run it though Bon Patron. *shaaaame* But I think it gets the point across, at least.
I'm working on it now. It's been a little while since I wrote smut, but hopefully it will still be good. >< D`aaawwww, thanks. 8//D
(author!anon is in Halifax, but plans to move to Montreal next year.)
Reply
I couldn't help but snicker at every ouais I saw, in my area they pronounce it 'wheyn' with a very light n and it makes it inherently more funny than it should be.
Great so far, I like the pace, though I think some people my get turned off by all the French, maybe post translations? Not at the end, but like this: "Frenchfrenchfrench" englishenglishenglish I followed it fine, but you never know, and I find that way of translating isn't too intrusive for the reader.
Reply
France lets his hands trace abstract patterns over Canada’s back, just barely touching. Canada shivers and arches ever so slightly. He nips at the older nation’s collar bone. France gasps lightly.
“Mathieu,” he whispers, and shifts more towards the center of the bed, taking the other with him. Canada’s fingers grapple with the other’s belt for a minute, his brows knitting together in concentration. France chuckles lightly and undoes it, wondering how much wine Canada has had. Enough to dissipate his usual shyness, it seems, but he’s still fully aware. He lifts his hips so Canada can pull his pants off, and toes off his socks a minute later. Canada leans down to kiss him again, full of passion and need. Their tongues move together, their teeth clack.
France rolls them so he’s on top, and kisses down the other nation’s jaw. Canada groans softly, his hands coming to France’s shoulders. The older nation continues down his neck, stopping to lap and suck at the junction between neck and shoulder, because the mark of his language isn’t enough. He wants to own all of this, in a way he hasn’t felt in years.
His fingers dance over skin, teasing and light. His mouth continues downwards, more vicious now, nipping where he pleases, because he needs to mark this, and make sure everyone knows Canada is his even after all these years. Canada moans, his eyes closed.
France tugs at the other nation’s boxers, and Canada raises his hips obligingly. The sight of the other man completely nude beneath his is breathtaking. His soft hair falling around a flushed face, his glasses askew, red marks blooming on his neck and chest.
He leans in to kiss the younger nation, deeply, passionately. His fingers tease at Canada’s nipples, and he moans. France swallows the noise eagerly, but it’s not enough. He wants to hear more of that voice. He wants to hear Canada begging for him, pleading for release.
His mouth starts downwards again, but this time, he has a destination in mind. Canada leans up on his elbows, watching half-breathlessly as France trails kisses past his navel and pushes his legs farther apart. Canada is well-endowed, to say the least. France is excited to taste it, but decides to wait, instead pressing a kiss to the inside of the other man’s thigh. Canada gasps slightly, frustration clear on his face.
France licks the same place, maintaining eye contact as he does. Canada tries to glare at him, but the lust in his eyes overwhelms the anger. France grins up at him and kisses down his leg, stopping to leave a red mark before continuing on. He kneels up and licks the top of Canada’s calf tauntingly. (It’s not smooth like a woman would be: unshaven and muscled and perhaps more satisfying for it.)
Canada whines quietly in the back of his throat, his eyes begging France to bring his mouth back where he wants it.
“France, please,” he whispers, looking away as he says it.
“En Français,” France replies, grinning.
« France, s’il te plaît... » He’s still looking away, his hair covering his eyes, but his face is bright red. The words go straight to France’s crotch, and he grins widely.
“Ca c’est meilleur,” he says, and licks up Canada’s length. Canada moans and falls back flat on the bed.
He takes the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue and watching Canada’s barely-visible face as he does so. Canada’s hands fist in the covers; his breath comes fast. France’s hand grips his sack, kneading it as he psyches himself up to go deeper. Canada’s pretty big, but France does not back down from such a delicious challenge.
He pulls off the head and mouths down the side, letting his stubbled cheek brush Canada’s thigh. Canada moans and shudders, and the noises are like music to France’s ears.
“As-tu de lube?” he asks, looking up at the younger nation.
“Dans ma table d’chevet,” Canada mumbles, taking a second to answer. France leans over to grab it and a condom before returning to the task at hand.
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He pulls off to tongue at the head, lubing up his fingers as he does. Canada lifts his head to look, his eyes half closed, his cheeks flushed. France grins and touches his entrance, half making sure Canada knows what he’s doing, half asking permission. Canada nods jerkily.
France slides one finger in, slowly, slowly, letting the other nation get used to it. He’s sure the other man’s done it before: who hasn’t, among them? But he’s not entirely used to it (comme certaines salopes anglaises.) Canada takes a shaky breath to steady himself, and relaxes. France smiles and moves his finger in and out a few times. When he’s sure the other nation is ready, he adds another. Canada moans quietly at the sensation. France’s other hand rests on the younger nation’s inner thigh, his thumb subconsciously rubbing little circles on the sensitive flesh.
He scissors gently, and curls his fingers, trying to find that one spot. Canada writhes a bit, his fists still tangled in the covers.
“A-Ahh, câlisse, France, there!”
The words go straight to France’s groin. He bites back a quiet moan and repeats the motion. He is rewarded by a string of bilingual cursing, rough and husky from the other nation. He decides instantly that as much as this is a grave offence to his beautiful language, he needs to hear more of it.
He continues for several minutes, sitting up higher so he can see the other nation’s face as he comes undone, French and English and sounds of no language at all running together unconsciously, his breath getting increasingly shallow. Just as Canada is about to come, France pulls out, leaving no contact between them.
Canada keens loudly and rolls his hips upwards, trying to find any bit of friction.
“France, please, for fuck’s sake, just-“
“En Français,” France says sternly, making a show of rolling the condom on as slowly as possible.
“Tabernac, France, je t’en prie!” Canada moans. His toes curl and uncurl in the sheets.
“C’est quoi que tu veux?” France teases, slicking himself up.
« Tu sais que j’veux ! Sacrement, juste l’faire ! »
France smiles and pushes in, intending to go slowly, but Canada bucks closer and says something obscene and he loses control, just for a moment, slamming in. They both moan at the feeling, and Canada wraps his arms around the other nation and tugs, rolling them so he’s on top.
Caught off-guard, France blinks up at him, his breath catching slightly. Canada places his hands on France’s stomach and pants quietly for a moment, before lifting himself up and slamming back down, riding France’s cock.
It only takes France a second to come to his bearings and lift his hips to meet the other nations. Canada picks a fast rhythm, quivering with the strain as he moves, his hair bouncing.
“Mathieu,” France growls, his hands on Canada’s hips probably gripping hard enough to leave bruises. Canada moves one hand to his cock, jerking himself in time to their movement, and it’s all France can do to watch the show before him.
Canada comes with a shout, his seed falling on France’s chest. The sight of him is what pushes France over the edge, thrusting a few more times as he comes.
Canada takes a few shuddering breaths before half-falling to the side, breathing hard. France stays where he is for a moment, catching his breath, before grabbing a tissue from the night table to wipe himself off. He throws that and the used condom in the trash before curling himself around the taller nation, one arm wrapped protectively around him.
Actually, maybe I'll do the morning-after bit before the translations... Hope you don't mind.
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When France wakes up, the first thing he notices is that his back is too cold. Secondly, his legs are tangled up in someone else. Third, whoever it is smells quite nice. He smiles as he opens his eyes. Morning that start like this are always a good sign. His vision is filled with silky blond hair, much like his own. His smile gets wider as he remembers last night. They’ll have to do that again sometime. (Perhaps now, even, says a voice in his head.)
He leans up on his elbow to press a kiss to Canada’s neck. Canada rolls his shoulder up in protest and mumbles something.
“Bon matin, mon petit lapin,” he whispers, deciding to kiss Canada’s shoulder instead.
“J’suis plus grand que toi,” Canada replies, turning slightly to look at him. “And your kisses are too stubbly.” France makes a fake-offended face and rubs his cheek against Canada’s. Canada pushed him away half-heartedly and sits up.
“I need a shower,” he announces. “And breakfast.”
“Let’s shower together, then,” France suggests, looking up lazily at the other nation.
“The shower here’s too small for that,” Canada informs him. “I’ll make sure to leave some hot water for you, though.”
“You better.”
Canada laughs and climbs off the bed, heading for the door. France watches appreciatively. A few moments later, he hears the shower start up. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair.
Remembering the sort of food Canada seems to think is breakfast food, he resolves to make their breakfast himself today, and heads for the kitchen, stretching widely.
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If you’ve not already, I recommend opening this in a separate tab, because there is a fuck-ton of French in this, and you might need it. The translations are not so much literal as what I want it to mean. If I’ve failed, please let me know.
le sale connard - the f*cking bastard
Bonjour/Salut - hello
Tu parles encore la Francais, alors? - So you still speak French?
Ouais, c’est une de mes langues officielles, tu sais. - Yeah, it’s one of my official languages, y'know.
Je suis si fier de toi! Tu as continué avec ma belle langue tous ces ans ! - I’m so proud of you! You kept speaking my lovely language all these years!
C’est maintenent autant le mien que le votre. - It’s as much mine as yours, now.
Alors, comment ca va ? Tu as bien dormi ? - So how are you doing? Did you sleep well?
Oui, pendant treize heurs ! Je ne croyait pas que je peut dormir si longtemps ! - Yes, for 13 hours! I didn’t think I could sleep so long!
C’est un vol longue. - It was a long flight. (Now that I look back, should that have been C’etait un vol longue?)
Veut-tu que je continue en Francais ou anglais ? - Do you want me to keep going in French or English?
Les deux sont bons. - Either way is fine.
Mathieu, je ne vais jamais manger ca. - Matthew, I will not eat that.
L’essayer ! Je sais comment il regarde, mais c’est delicieux ! - Try it! I know how it looks, but it’s so good.
Ce n’est même pas le nourriture! J’ai pensé que tu as hérité mon sens de goût, pas ce d’Angleterre ! - It’s not even food! I thought you got your sense of taste from me, not England!
Ouvre le bouche. - Open your mouth.
C’est bon, ouais? - It’s good, right?
Alors, tu aimes Montréal ? - So you like Montreal?
Oui, c’est un ville très belle. Comme tous le pays, vraiment. - Yeah, it’s a beautiful city. Like the whole country, really.
Tu me flatte. - You’re flattering me.
Non, c’est vrai. Je pense que t’es un des plus bels pays que j’ai jamais vu. - No, it’s true. I think you’re one of the most beautiful countries I’ve ever seen.
Je pense que tu dis ça a tous le monde. - I think you say that to everyone.
Je ne suis jamais manqueur, Mathieu. C’est vrai. - I never lie, Matthew. It’s true. (Except it should be menteur, there, instead of manqueur. ORZ)
Merci - Thanks
Mais tu as visité des pays vraiments bels, ouais ? J’ne pourrais pas être le plus bel. - But you’ve visited a lot of pretty counties, right ? I can’t be the most beautiful.
As du confidence. Et tu n’est juste bel. Tu es aussi si gentil et plein d’energie. C’est vraiment un plaisir d’être avec toi. - Have some confidence. And you’re not only good-looking. You’re also kind and full of energy. It’s a pleasure to spend time with you.
Mais, j’ne suis pas si plein d’energy qu’Al. J’ne suis pas si special. - But I’m not full of energy like Al. I’m not that special.
Matthieu, regarde-moi. Tu es vraiment special. Si Angleterre et Amerique sont trop con pour le realizer, c’est leur faut. Quand je dis que c’est une plaisir d’être avec toi, c’est vrai. - Matthew, look at me. You really are special. If England and America are too stupid to realize it, that’s their fault. If I say it’s a pleasure to spend time with you, it’s true.
D’accord - Alright
Ma salle est juste là - My room is right there.
En Français - In French
France, s’il te plait - France, please.
Ca c’est meilleu Now that’s better.
As-tu de lube? - Do you have any lube?
Dans ma table d’chevet - In the night table.
comme certaines salopes anglaises - like certain English sluts
câlisse - fuck
Tabernac, France, je t’en prie ! - For fuck’s sake, France, I’m begging you!
C’est quoi que tu veux ? - What is it you want, then?
Tu sais que j’veux ! Sacrement, juste l’faire ! - You know what I want! Jesus, just do it!
Bon matin, mon petit lapin. - Good morning, my little bunny.
J’suis plus grand que toi. - I’m bigger than you are.
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Ontarian-anon LOVES you SO much for finishing this prompt so fast ;u;
Seriously, you can have my love, unborn children, soul.
Language kink is once again sated ;u;
Mon dieu, le français! LE FRANÇAIS! C'est trop fantastique! J'adore tu anon. Merci pour le fill impressionnant!
*adds to memories*
Captcha: workaday hard, Yes captcha, I'm sure authoranon did work hard =u=
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I meant to write it all at once, but then the sun was all "hey bitch, I'm rising now." and I had to go to bed. D<
I didn't even know I has a language kink until I wrote this, ORZ. I'm glad you like it.
( captcha: and cesspool. Captcha, that is so rude! D8 )
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Tu parles encore la Francais, alors? Like most languges (althout the word langue is feminine), Français is a masuline noun - so it would be le, not la.
C’est maintenent autant le mien que le votre; since you use tu and not vous in the rest of the fill, tiens would be more appropriate than vôtre.
C’est un vol longue. should be, indeed, c'était, in the past, and longue should be long, since vol is masculine.
I also suggest using beau instead of bel/i> when you mean pretty, beautiful or attractive. Beau is easier to use - bel (not to be confused with belle, the feminine form of beau) is always before the noun, and even then, only when the noun start with a vowel. Beau is used is all other cases. :) So it's un bel arbre but cet arbre est beau, or c'est un beau garçon and ce garçon est beau.
Je ne suis jamais manqueur; ahah, yes, menteur, or you could say Je ne mens jamais, that would sound more natural and is actually closer to the translation you wrote. ;)
As du confidence... is... I wouldn't know what you meant, ahah. Seeing your translation, I'd say «Fais-toi confiance», like, believe in yourself.
And last, room, as in bedroom, is chambre, and in your sentence, better would be mieux.
I could also add some things about Quebec French, since it's, well, my language, but I think you're doing pretty damn well! Even for us it's hard to write down without becoming joual or just a parody. Don't be afraid to use slang! ;) Also, France French has some pretty cool slang that we don't have in Quebec, too, you should look it up if you're interested in that stuff!
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The confidence bit is probably the only one I wouldn't have got if I'd been thinking things through properly. This is all very helpful, though. Thank you for taking the time. :3
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