In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
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hetalia kink meme
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Okay, let's make history and be more epic than these people, shall we?
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It was the best birthday present that America had ever received.
True, it was not given on his birthday, but it was given for his birthday, and that was what counted. She carried a tablet engraved with the date that had changed his history forever, after all, and as he touched the molded copper of her hair, leaned out farther than was probably advisable, not even the bitter memories tucked up around his last confrontation with England could chase the smile that spread, wide and immediate and childishly delighted, from his lips. Before him lay the sea; behind him, one of his most beloved cities. And beside him-
"La liberté éclairant le mond," said a voice low in his ear, as though it could sense his thoughts, and a turn of the head revealed its source. France’s smile, narrow and wolfish, only grew more roguish when he was pleased with himself, and now it dominated his face. "She is grand, non?"
"She sure is something." There was a tone akin to awe in the youth’s voice, something excited and optimistic- something that France wished he could reclaim for himself. It had been far too long since the older nation had possessed such unthinking confidence in what the future held, and even this, this gesture of friendship and something more besides, had been at least in part a last great effort to throw his heart and spirit behind some intangible ideal as he had not for so many years now.
"More than that, mon ami." France did not attempt to hide the smirk that traced its way across his lips, a self-satisfied little curl that spoke of his pride in his art. "Far more than that."
It was a promise that became a kiss with the fluidity of changing weather, the words slipping out, France leaning in, faces coming together as though by the will of nature.
It was not the same as the kisses they had shared a century before, the ones that France had pressed upon an inexperienced America, that had been reciprocated with eagerness but little skill. No, this began slow and heated up more quickly than either of them had expected, a sensuous press of lips and tongues becoming something far more urgent as the taller blonde brought his arms up to drape across the Frenchman’s shoulders and draw him in close.
It was a not a battle for control- not quite- though later America would of course claim that it had been. There was too much give and take for that, too much of a helpful lifting of arms here or the obliging release of buttons there, all with the shared goal to expose more skin.
France’s fingers plucked the other man’s shirt nimbly free when he’d worked it open, laying bare a broad young chest. It had filled out since last he’d seen it; there were scars that had not been there before, burns and gunshots, but the way it rose and fell, too fast to conceal the excitement of its owner, had not changed at all.
Changes, changes. There were so many.
"The glasses suit you, mon ami." One deft hand darted out to snatch them from the American’s nose. "You are shortsighted?"
A petulant frown greeted the words, a brief crease of that fair brow. "Near-sighted," America corrected, and succeeded in stealing them back, returning them to their rightful place.
A low chuckle greeted the words, a sound that transformed into a throaty laugh as France leaned forward with his intent plain in his eyes, sliding his thumbs familiarly into the waistband of the other man’s pants. "Perhaps."
The response that America had wanted to give was stolen away by clever fingers working the fabric down over his hips, and suddenly it seemed much more important to return the favor, to fumble with the smooth brown leather belt that slung low on France’s hips and work the end of it through a buckle that had been polished until it shone. Shoes were kicked off, nudged away with bare toes- one pair measured to fit, crafted leather, the other serviceable work shoes, a hole worn through in the heel.
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It had not been ill-remembered.
The man was hard already- proudly, wetly hard- and he arched obligingly up into the hand that wrapped itself around his length, hissing his approval. There was none of the embarrassment here that had come when he had been no more than a teenager, biting his lip and clenching his fists to keep the keening moans from escaping. No, America had shed all sense of shame at some point, moved under the Frenchman’s touch with an ease far more confident, and reached without pause to return the favor.
France had planned to make it last. He had planned to make the other nation twitch beneath him, writhe beneath him, to have a repeat of one particularly delicious memory in which he’d taken the boy so thoroughly that he’d screamed out his completion. There was something captivating about the urgency in those summer-blue eyes, though, something fascinating in that strong hand working over his erection with a determination nothing short of impressive.
Instead, he sped the pace, watched as America’s hips jerked to match the rhythm, saw the way the man’s lips fell open and his eyes drifted shut behind the newly acquired glasses. He gave one last pump, slow and hard, and traced his finger around the tip when he got there, giving it a squeeze.
It was enough.
All around America’s ears, there was white noise, the sound of the world burning down, and if he was unaware of whether France followed him up into the heavens and then back down once more, he could not much find the resolve to care.
"We will have to do that again," he was aware of France saying, somewhere in the distance. "Properly."
"Yeah. Soon." It was a lazy smile, a sated smile, and America reached one finger to straighten his slipping glasses.
"Bon anniversaire," came the reply. "Your gifts are sufficient, I trust?"
"They’re great," America replied, the answer supplied with childlike frankness. "Especially, you know. Your statue-"
"She is yours, mon ami." France’s face was study in contrasts, chiseled features mixed with offense that the one gift took precedence over the other and pride at precisely the same thing. "La liberté is like a lover, non? Treat her well, and she will stay as long as you will have her."
Beyond the statue’s crown where the two men rested, naked, upon the hard and unforgiving floor, there came the low and mournful bellow of a ship coming in to harbor.
America stood, nude and shameless as the day he was born, strong young body catching the sunlight that streamed in through the seven windows that spanned the narrow space. He moved to one of them, perfect teeth set on display in a grin unpretentiously eager, so that he could welcome the new arrivals to his home.
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Thank you for the love, thouuugh. <3
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-The formal name for the Statue of Liberty was La liberté éclairant le monde- Liberty Enlightening the World.
-It was dedicated to the US in 1886. Wiki says that "The idea for the commemorative gift... grew out of the political turmoil which was shaking France at the time. The French Third Republic was still considered as a "temporary" arrangement by many, who wished a return to monarchism..."
-America's glasses represent Texas, which only came to be part of the US some 40 years before the statue went up. Therefore, for this fic they're relatively new.
-Some other stuff that I'm forgetting.
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you crazy genius awesome thing you
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This is very wonderfully written! Not what I had in mind when I requested this, yes- but it went way past my expectation! THANK YOU AUTHOR ANON. THANK YOU. You've made my day!! ♥♥♥
For the lack of words to display how much I loved this-- Here, have a France/US. /o/
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GOOD GRIEF, these are the things I want to see each morning when I just woke up 8DDDDDD
Love you, anon!writer and OP~<3333333
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Also... oh. my. goodness. Lovely, lovely hotness.
*right click... save* *___*
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The fic was adorable... I'm glad I found this little fic after so long, OP. I think you captured them in a lovely manner.
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This was--this--THIS. So much win, anon. This is probably one of the hottest things in this whole meme, hands down. It's got a feeling of slow, burning warmth, you know? Plus, all the historical factoids and France's motivation and all the little intricacies and, just, NGH. Loved it. Loveditloveditlovedit ILU ANON.
(Also, do they really represent Texas? I keep hearing that, but I have no idea where it comes from. O_o)
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Also, yes about Texas. There's a sketch done by the artist floating around out there that labels certain parts of certain characters and what they represent- America's glasses, but also the hair curls of various other folks and certain articles of clothing/props. If I remembered where I'd seen it, I would link you, but unfortunately I don't. Sorry. ^^
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For reference, if the pic disappears some day:
America's Glasses = Texas
America's Hair Flick = Nantucket
Hungary's Hair Flowers = Balaton
Austria's Hair Flick = Mariazell
Korea's Hair Thing = His Soul
France's Beard = Gorges Du Tarn
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