France & nation A - secret relationship
anonymous
November 15 2009, 18:27:34 UTC
France & an unusual nation of anon's choice, i.e no UK, Spain, America, Canada and the likes. Prompt is secret relationship. Anon wants to see their daily life, from the simplest task of cooking/cleaning the house together etc, to their shared glances during world conference. Sweet, sweet lovemaking is very welcomed but not compulsory.
Bonus: if that nation is Denmark or Russia or Cuba
Ontario [1/?]
anonymous
November 26 2009, 03:33:04 UTC
I…don’t think this is quite what the OP had in mind, but I thought I would try a fill, anyway, to break into the Russia/France thing. Hope you enjoy it, anyway. ___
Ontario
The sense of finality only really sparks up France’s spine when they step out of the limo in front of the hotel. The feeling shocks up his legs and spine and causes him to gasp, stopping a little as he thinks about what that feeling means.
This shall never happen again“Ah, no, I am fine,” he says, smiling and waving his boss off. His boss looks unconvinced, wavering between asking France what he wants and going to speak with America’s boss
( ... )
Ontario [2/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 21:32:28 UTC
France doesn’t answer, but he does smile as he picks up his bags and follows Ivan down the hall and around a right turn. He walks a bit behind Russia, just watching and admiring the way the hotel lights shone in his platinum blond hair, seeing the frays and worn places where he clutches his scarf. He reaches out and touches the back of Russia’s coat with a finger, laughing when he jolts and looks over his shoulder
( ... )
Ontario [3/?]
anonymous
November 29 2009, 18:37:18 UTC
France works with quick, efficient movements, curling and uncurling his fingers as needed; he has but five fingers on each hand, and yet he feels as though they are more like spider-legs than the flesh-and-bone of human hands
( ... )
Ontario [4/?]
anonymous
November 30 2009, 21:44:01 UTC
Russia turns to smile at France in response; but the smile is saccharine-sweet, too saturated in what Russia thinks a smile should look like rather than what it actually is
( ... )
Ontario [5/?]
anonymous
December 1 2009, 17:36:01 UTC
“How did you escape?”
“I trailed behind,” Russia says, shutting the door and locking it behind them. “No one followed us.”
“Good.”
They spare any further words, moving at the same time; Francis wraps his arms around Ivan’s neck at the same time he feels Ivan’s arms wrap around his waist. And underneath that gentleness he feels strength being held back, the urge to crush and own. Francis tightens his own grip, but Ivan’s remains slack and loose as their faces tilt to one another and they kiss.
Ivan’s tongue pauses at Francis’s lips, shy, uncertain, and Francis just chuckles and opens his mouth further, inviting Ivan in. Holding his tongue there with gentle teeth and sheer will until Ivan stops trying to draw back and away, until Ivan’s hands come up to tangle in his hair, gentle fistfuls of gold poking out between fingers.
“Ah - Dieu, Ivan - ah, what do you want me to
( ... )
Re: Ontario [5/?]
anonymous
December 2 2009, 22:09:33 UTC
I love everything about this fic. Such a sweet, sad relationship, and seeing these two in love and desperate for each other just breaks my heart. I can't wait for more.
Ontario [6/?]
anonymous
December 3 2009, 02:26:40 UTC
“I’m right here, you know,” Ivan mumbles, and Francis looks to where it’s wrapped around his waist, holding him close and firm. With a chuckle, he leans down to kiss Ivan on the forehead.
“Oui, but you do not smell the same as your coat, Ivan.”
“I smell?”
Ivan frowns a little, and it’s so cute that Francis cannot help but laugh, bend his head, and press a kiss to Ivan’s temple. “Only in the best way, amour,” he replies, lifting a hand to smooth over Ivan’s powder-soft hair, teasing it with the tips of his fingertips. Snowdrifts, he thinks, feeling its powder-softness against his fingers.
I wonder why I never noticed before.
At the same time, Ivan lifts his head so that purple eyes can meet blue. “You’re different, here,” Ivan says. “You were in the bathroom, too.”
“Quoi?”
“See? There.” Francis smiles, lifts his pointer finger, and traces Francis’s lips. “You speak like a different person around me. You use my name - my human name
( ... )
Ontario [7/?]
anonymous
December 4 2009, 00:38:25 UTC
Ivan purrs in response, and Francis realizes that he has to get them back on track before they completely lose the story. “But we’d have to get out of there sometime - and into the city, where a whole new world awaits.”
He feels Ivan purr into his neck. Francis stops for a moment to feel the soft hair at the nape of Ivan’s neck, letting his hands slide around a body that is certainly bulky but not without its strength and charm. A nip startles Francis out of his musings.
“Keep going,” Ivan encourages, nipping Francis’s neck as he trails fingers down his side. With a sigh and an arch, Francis continues.
“We’d stand there a moment, dumbfounded by the lights and the people,” he murmurs, despite the distracting teeth and lips on his neck. “But then, we’d each take a deep breath of air, and we’d feel our bodies come alive and would smile at one another as we plunged into the city.”
“Have we found somewhere to eat yet?” A hand comes up to pet Francis’s hair as lips go down to kiss and suckle at Francis’s collarbone.
Ontario [8/?]
anonymous
December 5 2009, 20:16:03 UTC
Ivan presses his cheek to Francis’s stomach, but he lets his bangs feather over his eyes.
“Ivan?”
“It’s a lovely night outside,” Ivan says. “It’s snowing.”
“So it’s snowing,” Francis murmurs, an echo, and he’s not sure he likes the tone in Ivan’s voice. “Shall we talk about warmer weather, then? About your trip to Alfred’s home, I think. Did he take you to his -”
“Francis.”
Ivan’s level with his face again, sudden, unexpected, and the intensity of the pain in those eyes makes Francis cast his eyes away and look out the window. It’s clear tonight, and Francis thinks how sharp and cold it must feel outside.
“Francis, look at me, pleaseFingers caress his cheek, and Francis finds his gaze forced back onto Ivan before he has a chance to object. Francis just sighs and smiles in response, a bit too wide and sad for either of them to believe
( ... )
Bonus: if that nation is Denmark or Russia or Cuba
Reply
___
Ontario
The sense of finality only really sparks up France’s spine when they step out of the limo in front of the hotel. The feeling shocks up his legs and spine and causes him to gasp, stopping a little as he thinks about what that feeling means.
This shall never happen again“Ah, no, I am fine,” he says, smiling and waving his boss off. His boss looks unconvinced, wavering between asking France what he wants and going to speak with America’s boss ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
<3<3<3
ILU, ANON!!!
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
“I trailed behind,” Russia says, shutting the door and locking it behind them. “No one followed us.”
“Good.”
They spare any further words, moving at the same time; Francis wraps his arms around Ivan’s neck at the same time he feels Ivan’s arms wrap around his waist. And underneath that gentleness he feels strength being held back, the urge to crush and own. Francis tightens his own grip, but Ivan’s remains slack and loose as their faces tilt to one another and they kiss.
Ivan’s tongue pauses at Francis’s lips, shy, uncertain, and Francis just chuckles and opens his mouth further, inviting Ivan in. Holding his tongue there with gentle teeth and sheer will until Ivan stops trying to draw back and away, until Ivan’s hands come up to tangle in his hair, gentle fistfuls of gold poking out between fingers.
“Ah - Dieu, Ivan - ah, what do you want me to ( ... )
Reply
Reply
“Oui, but you do not smell the same as your coat, Ivan.”
“I smell?”
Ivan frowns a little, and it’s so cute that Francis cannot help but laugh, bend his head, and press a kiss to Ivan’s temple. “Only in the best way, amour,” he replies, lifting a hand to smooth over Ivan’s powder-soft hair, teasing it with the tips of his fingertips. Snowdrifts, he thinks, feeling its powder-softness against his fingers.
I wonder why I never noticed before.
At the same time, Ivan lifts his head so that purple eyes can meet blue. “You’re different, here,” Ivan says. “You were in the bathroom, too.”
“Quoi?”
“See? There.” Francis smiles, lifts his pointer finger, and traces Francis’s lips. “You speak like a different person around me. You use my name - my human name ( ... )
Reply
Reply
He feels Ivan purr into his neck. Francis stops for a moment to feel the soft hair at the nape of Ivan’s neck, letting his hands slide around a body that is certainly bulky but not without its strength and charm. A nip startles Francis out of his musings.
“Keep going,” Ivan encourages, nipping Francis’s neck as he trails fingers down his side. With a sigh and an arch, Francis continues.
“We’d stand there a moment, dumbfounded by the lights and the people,” he murmurs, despite the distracting teeth and lips on his neck. “But then, we’d each take a deep breath of air, and we’d feel our bodies come alive and would smile at one another as we plunged into the city.”
“Have we found somewhere to eat yet?” A hand comes up to pet Francis’s hair as lips go down to kiss and suckle at Francis’s collarbone.
“Ah - non ( ... )
Reply
“Ivan?”
“It’s a lovely night outside,” Ivan says. “It’s snowing.”
“So it’s snowing,” Francis murmurs, an echo, and he’s not sure he likes the tone in Ivan’s voice. “Shall we talk about warmer weather, then? About your trip to Alfred’s home, I think. Did he take you to his -”
“Francis.”
Ivan’s level with his face again, sudden, unexpected, and the intensity of the pain in those eyes makes Francis cast his eyes away and look out the window. It’s clear tonight, and Francis thinks how sharp and cold it must feel outside.
“Francis, look at me, pleaseFingers caress his cheek, and Francis finds his gaze forced back onto Ivan before he has a chance to object. Francis just sighs and smiles in response, a bit too wide and sad for either of them to believe ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment