Laundry [France/Portugal]
Title: Laundry [Most creative title ever, je sais]
Author: Mar
Pairing: France/Portugal
Rating: R-18
Summary: Univerity AU, setting based off hetalia_daigaku . Francis finds a way to entertain himself while his clothes are washing. Fail PWP
Notes: Written for mon ichiban meilleure amiga, xringmaster . Also, Henrique/Portugal is her OC ...this comes off as a bit rushed, so I apologise, bambina. Please ignore any formatting errors; I have yet to figure out how to get LJ to not hate me. However, if you spot spelling/grammatical errors, please let me know.
The one thing about college classes that could either be good or bad was once you were done with them for the day, there was all of this free time that was just begging for fun things to be done with. Today, that started fairly early for Francis. It was hardly noon and here he was with the rest of the day to waste. He could have been a good student and spent the afternoon studying-and if he chose to do that, he really wouldn’t be missing out on much. If he remembered his friends’ schedules correctly, they didn’t have class until about an hour or so from now. That is, if they even decided to go to class or woke up in time.
But Francis didn’t feel like spending a perfectly good afternoon studying. So rather than heading up to his dorm room, he just walked into the building and wandered around idly. He wasn’t waiting for something to happen; rather he was looking for an opportunity to make something happen. Something fun or at least mildly entertaining, something that would be better than boringly studying for midterms that were coming up in two weeks. It wouldn’t be that hard to find something better than that, being as resourceful as he was.
After finding the dorm building’s common empty, he headed up stairs and continued walking around idly. He only saw a few people in his wanderings, but they tended to be students running late for their respective classes. Before he even realized it, he was standing in front of his door. But there was still no way he’d waste his time studying.
Fishing the key out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and stepped in. He could do laundry. It needed to be done, and that was better than studying. Francis had his cell phone and a few fashion magazines to look at while he was down in the basement, so he wouldn’t be completely bored. And it wouldn’t take long-he didn’t have many outfits that he didn’t feel inclined to take in to get dry-cleaned.
Gathering up his socks, boxers, pants, and shirts that were safe to go through the washing machine, he placed them all in a basket and headed downstairs to the basement two floors below. He put his clothes in different laundry machines based on the fabric and colours. Perhaps it was a bit of a waste, but there was no way he could wash denim with cotton or polyester, for example.
For the next ten minutes, he sat on the bench in front of the washing machines, flipping through a magazine that contained photos of winter lines by various fashion icons like Chanel and Jean-Paul Gaultier. When he was living back home in Paris, one of his favourite past times was strolling down Les Champs Élysées and visiting the various shops on the strip. He hardly ever left without at least buying something, whether it was a new handbag, scarf, or full-blown outfit. When he had access to his parents’ seemingly bottomless bank account, his spending was hardly ever a problem.
The only other reading material that was more engrossing than this were the various porno mags he subscribed to, so when someone else walked into the laundry room, he didn’t notice until a few moments later, even though he had been addressed with a casual ‘oi, Francis!’
When he finally realised someone had spoken to him, Francis looked up to see his dear Portuguese friend, Henrique. Francis had met the other man years before, but he never really spent much time with him until they started attending the same university. Henrique was the half-brother of one of Francis’s best friends, so he saw him quite a bit when he was younger, but different friends and interests made him easily looked over by the preoccupied Frenchman.
“Salut. Ça va bien?” Francis smiled and set his magazine aside. Some conversation would be nice. Maybe he could convince the brunet to take his clothes off and show off that gorgeous natural tan of his, too.
“Sim, sim. Just came down to do some laundry, haha. And yourself?” Henrique set his own laundry basket on the end of the bench and started loading his clothes into an empty washer.
With the Portuguese man’s back to him, Francis couldn’t help but stare. Of course, he had finesse so it wasn’t a blatant stare with his jaw dropped like he’d expect to see from Gilbert. No, it was covert. And although it was, Francis got a marvelous view of that Latino ass. It didn’t even take him a moment to decide that the maybe was going to be a momentarily, he was quite certain of that.
Henrique always came off as a bit oblivious to Francis, much like his Spanish half-brother, so he decided to go about this a bit more forwardly than he would otherwise. But that was just as well. This would not be first time initiating such activities with the other man, so he could be a bit casual.
Francis walked over to stand beside Henrique and trailed his fingertips from the small space behind Henrique’s ear to down the side of his neck and spine, right down to that ass he had been spying just a moment ago. He smirked at the chill he felt run down Henrique’s back following his hand. His lips grazed the side of the man’s neck, causing a soft inhalation from him. “Tu sais, mon ami, I know just the thing for us to while our clothes finish washing.”
“A-ah, I’m quite sure you do, Francis,” Henrique managed. The moment he turned and looked at the Frenchman, Francis knew he had him. The blond set his hand on the other’s hip, allowing his fingertips to slip under the hem of his shirt to caress the soft skin hiding beneath. He leaned forward slightly and kissed Henrique, gently at first, then in increasing passion-tongues battled for dominance, lips were nipped.
Henrique tangled his fingers in Francis’s blond locks and eventually dropped to run down his back and grab hold of the Frenchman’s ass. That wasn’t enough for Francis. Foreplay was all fun and games, but with clothing on it got boring rather quickly. Deft fingers quickly took care of that; within moments Francis had unbuttoned and unzipped Henrique’s jeans and tugged them to his thighs. Henrique followed suit, and after detaching briefly, two pairs of pants littered the basement floor.
Francis pushed the other man against one of the running washer machines and trailed a hand up his hand up Henrique’s thigh and around to the back to lift it around his waist while his other hand curled around the other’s cock, pumping slowly for good measure.
Hungry mouths found each other and continued before Francis broke the kiss to nip his way up the side of Henrique’s jaw and neck. Teeth latched onto an earlobe and the sound Henrique made in response was all too encouraging. Francis brought his hand up from Henrique’s thigh to press against his lips.
Whilst taking Francis’s fingers in his mouth and sucking, tongue swirling, almost painfully reminiscent to the technique Henrique had often used on Francis’s cock, he kept eye contact, and that made the action all the more hotter. Francis groaned softly and removed the slick fingers and brought them around to Henrique’s entrance.
He gently pressed a single finger into him, slowly moving it in and out before adding the second to stretch and to further prepare the other man for something much larger. He removed his fingers to stroke himself a few times before positioning himself and easing in.
Henrique was hot and tight, hugging Francis’s cock in a way that was just wonderful, but the Frenchman maintained control and remained still to allow the other time to adjust.
Francis began slowly rocking his hips, thrusting slowly. Henrique gripped his shoulders, short nails digging into pale skin as he pushed down on Francis’s cock, craving more. The Frenchman quickly provided, speeding up to a more comfortable pace. He had done this with the Portuguese man to know which speed to use, what angle, and where exactly to hit to cause him to make all those lovely sounds. And Henrique was just so wonderfully tight, and the way he rocked his hips against Francis simply enticed the Frenchman more.
From the change in breathing and nearly desperate-sounding mewls the brunet made, Francis could tell that he was getting close. He brought his hand back down to stroke Henrique to help get him off. It wasn’t long after that Francis had succeeded in doing so, sticky hot dripping down his hand and a bit on both of their shirts. Henrique’s tightening made Francis all that much closer, and after driving up in him, he reached that high as well.
Francis pressed his forehead into Henrique’s shoulder briefly while he caught his breath. He detached himself and took a step back, licking his hand while Henrique leaned against the washer machine, smiling at the blond briefly as he panted.
Just as Francis picked up his pants and started putting them on, the first of his machines buzzed. Returning that smile with a grin, Francis grabbed his basket and started unloading the washer.
Author: Mar
Pairing: France/Portugal
Rating: R-18
Summary: Univerity AU, setting based off hetalia_daigaku . Francis finds a way to entertain himself while his clothes are washing. Fail PWP
Notes: Written for mon ichiban meilleure amiga, xringmaster . Also, Henrique/Portugal is her OC ...this comes off as a bit rushed, so I apologise, bambina. Please ignore any formatting errors; I have yet to figure out how to get LJ to not hate me. However, if you spot spelling/grammatical errors, please let me know.
The one thing about college classes that could either be good or bad was once you were done with them for the day, there was all of this free time that was just begging for fun things to be done with. Today, that started fairly early for Francis. It was hardly noon and here he was with the rest of the day to waste. He could have been a good student and spent the afternoon studying-and if he chose to do that, he really wouldn’t be missing out on much. If he remembered his friends’ schedules correctly, they didn’t have class until about an hour or so from now. That is, if they even decided to go to class or woke up in time.
But Francis didn’t feel like spending a perfectly good afternoon studying. So rather than heading up to his dorm room, he just walked into the building and wandered around idly. He wasn’t waiting for something to happen; rather he was looking for an opportunity to make something happen. Something fun or at least mildly entertaining, something that would be better than boringly studying for midterms that were coming up in two weeks. It wouldn’t be that hard to find something better than that, being as resourceful as he was.
After finding the dorm building’s common empty, he headed up stairs and continued walking around idly. He only saw a few people in his wanderings, but they tended to be students running late for their respective classes. Before he even realized it, he was standing in front of his door. But there was still no way he’d waste his time studying.
Fishing the key out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and stepped in. He could do laundry. It needed to be done, and that was better than studying. Francis had his cell phone and a few fashion magazines to look at while he was down in the basement, so he wouldn’t be completely bored. And it wouldn’t take long-he didn’t have many outfits that he didn’t feel inclined to take in to get dry-cleaned.
Gathering up his socks, boxers, pants, and shirts that were safe to go through the washing machine, he placed them all in a basket and headed downstairs to the basement two floors below. He put his clothes in different laundry machines based on the fabric and colours. Perhaps it was a bit of a waste, but there was no way he could wash denim with cotton or polyester, for example.
For the next ten minutes, he sat on the bench in front of the washing machines, flipping through a magazine that contained photos of winter lines by various fashion icons like Chanel and Jean-Paul Gaultier. When he was living back home in Paris, one of his favourite past times was strolling down Les Champs Élysées and visiting the various shops on the strip. He hardly ever left without at least buying something, whether it was a new handbag, scarf, or full-blown outfit. When he had access to his parents’ seemingly bottomless bank account, his spending was hardly ever a problem.
The only other reading material that was more engrossing than this were the various porno mags he subscribed to, so when someone else walked into the laundry room, he didn’t notice until a few moments later, even though he had been addressed with a casual ‘oi, Francis!’
When he finally realised someone had spoken to him, Francis looked up to see his dear Portuguese friend, Henrique. Francis had met the other man years before, but he never really spent much time with him until they started attending the same university. Henrique was the half-brother of one of Francis’s best friends, so he saw him quite a bit when he was younger, but different friends and interests made him easily looked over by the preoccupied Frenchman.
“Salut. Ça va bien?” Francis smiled and set his magazine aside. Some conversation would be nice. Maybe he could convince the brunet to take his clothes off and show off that gorgeous natural tan of his, too.
“Sim, sim. Just came down to do some laundry, haha. And yourself?” Henrique set his own laundry basket on the end of the bench and started loading his clothes into an empty washer.
With the Portuguese man’s back to him, Francis couldn’t help but stare. Of course, he had finesse so it wasn’t a blatant stare with his jaw dropped like he’d expect to see from Gilbert. No, it was covert. And although it was, Francis got a marvelous view of that Latino ass. It didn’t even take him a moment to decide that the maybe was going to be a momentarily, he was quite certain of that.
Henrique always came off as a bit oblivious to Francis, much like his Spanish half-brother, so he decided to go about this a bit more forwardly than he would otherwise. But that was just as well. This would not be first time initiating such activities with the other man, so he could be a bit casual.
Francis walked over to stand beside Henrique and trailed his fingertips from the small space behind Henrique’s ear to down the side of his neck and spine, right down to that ass he had been spying just a moment ago. He smirked at the chill he felt run down Henrique’s back following his hand. His lips grazed the side of the man’s neck, causing a soft inhalation from him. “Tu sais, mon ami, I know just the thing for us to while our clothes finish washing.”
“A-ah, I’m quite sure you do, Francis,” Henrique managed. The moment he turned and looked at the Frenchman, Francis knew he had him. The blond set his hand on the other’s hip, allowing his fingertips to slip under the hem of his shirt to caress the soft skin hiding beneath. He leaned forward slightly and kissed Henrique, gently at first, then in increasing passion-tongues battled for dominance, lips were nipped.
Henrique tangled his fingers in Francis’s blond locks and eventually dropped to run down his back and grab hold of the Frenchman’s ass. That wasn’t enough for Francis. Foreplay was all fun and games, but with clothing on it got boring rather quickly. Deft fingers quickly took care of that; within moments Francis had unbuttoned and unzipped Henrique’s jeans and tugged them to his thighs. Henrique followed suit, and after detaching briefly, two pairs of pants littered the basement floor.
Francis pushed the other man against one of the running washer machines and trailed a hand up his hand up Henrique’s thigh and around to the back to lift it around his waist while his other hand curled around the other’s cock, pumping slowly for good measure.
Hungry mouths found each other and continued before Francis broke the kiss to nip his way up the side of Henrique’s jaw and neck. Teeth latched onto an earlobe and the sound Henrique made in response was all too encouraging. Francis brought his hand up from Henrique’s thigh to press against his lips.
Whilst taking Francis’s fingers in his mouth and sucking, tongue swirling, almost painfully reminiscent to the technique Henrique had often used on Francis’s cock, he kept eye contact, and that made the action all the more hotter. Francis groaned softly and removed the slick fingers and brought them around to Henrique’s entrance.
He gently pressed a single finger into him, slowly moving it in and out before adding the second to stretch and to further prepare the other man for something much larger. He removed his fingers to stroke himself a few times before positioning himself and easing in.
Henrique was hot and tight, hugging Francis’s cock in a way that was just wonderful, but the Frenchman maintained control and remained still to allow the other time to adjust.
Francis began slowly rocking his hips, thrusting slowly. Henrique gripped his shoulders, short nails digging into pale skin as he pushed down on Francis’s cock, craving more. The Frenchman quickly provided, speeding up to a more comfortable pace. He had done this with the Portuguese man to know which speed to use, what angle, and where exactly to hit to cause him to make all those lovely sounds. And Henrique was just so wonderfully tight, and the way he rocked his hips against Francis simply enticed the Frenchman more.
From the change in breathing and nearly desperate-sounding mewls the brunet made, Francis could tell that he was getting close. He brought his hand back down to stroke Henrique to help get him off. It wasn’t long after that Francis had succeeded in doing so, sticky hot dripping down his hand and a bit on both of their shirts. Henrique’s tightening made Francis all that much closer, and after driving up in him, he reached that high as well.
Francis pressed his forehead into Henrique’s shoulder briefly while he caught his breath. He detached himself and took a step back, licking his hand while Henrique leaned against the washer machine, smiling at the blond briefly as he panted.
Just as Francis picked up his pants and started putting them on, the first of his machines buzzed. Returning that smile with a grin, Francis grabbed his basket and started unloading the washer.