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The Twelve Days of Christmas	By : ArcadiaEclipse Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 4671 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or its characters. I make no money from my fanfiction.

Chapter List
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THE TENTH DAY

Requested by: Gothi-chan

Prompt: FrancexHungary with a side of AustriaxHungary. WW1 Austria is in a wheelchair possibly never able to recover after an attack on Vienna. Hurt/comfort with a side of romance.

                Roderich remained almost always motionless these days, hunched wordlessly in his wheelchair for hours at a time just staring through his window at the chaos playing out below like a Shakespearian tragedy. His people refused to get along, Ludwig was on yet another rampage but most troubling of all was the frequent unexplained absence of his lovely Elizaveta. There was a time when he commanded her every movement but lately she was drifting away and, heaven help him, the Austrian didn’t want to lose her.

                He could hear her enter his home through the large foyer, could hear the clicking of her shoes as she moved up the stairs and into his room to press a soft kiss to the top of his head in greeting though the Austrian never moved except to dig his fingers into the arms of the chair harder.

                “Good morning, Mr. Edelstein. Did you sleep well?”

                “You smell like him. Why do you even bother coming home after he fucks you all night long?”

                The girl gaped at him in silence but Roderich never averted his glare from the cool glass panes framing the world below, the world that hated him so vehemently.

                “I…I don’t need your permission to be with him!”

                She was right of course but her honesty didn’t sit well with the troubled man beside her and for the life of him Roderich couldn’t help but speak the venom left in the wake of his broken heart.

                “Does he lie sweetly to you, Elizaveta? Does he tell you he loves you as he fills your wanton body? Does he make you promises or is he a man that only seeks to make you scream his name in fluid-filled orgasm?”

                It wasn’t exactly surprising to the Austrian when she slapped him across the face and fled his company but the sting from her blow lasted long after the padding of her shoes faded down the hallway. He was a monster and yet his greatest regret was not realizing sooner that he was losing her to another man. She was beautiful, kind and articulate and he had lost her to another forever. The younger, prouder Roderich would have made it his mission to determine just who Elizaveta had taken for her bedmate but having spent the last seven months wallowing in his own misery made the bespeckled pianist unwilling to even wish her well let alone desire an audience with her new lover.

                The young Hungarian fled down the hallway and never paused until she was once again in her room, sliding the bolt into place before leaning back against the heavy wood and letting the sorrow wash over her. Why did Roderich have to change so much for the worse? There was a time when she had loved him, would do anything and everything to please him, but no longer. No, he had become a desperate, nearly despicable man and she was loathe to touch him lately much less kiss him.

                A soft knock at her window had the girl blinking in surprise then joy to see Francis Bonnefoy crouched on a sturdy tree limb just outside her window grinning and waiting to be let in. So rarely did he visit her after daylight but given her unpleasant encounter with Roderich a few moments before the girl was eager to forget her domestic woes. She wasted no time in hurrying to unlock the glass and let her beloved in.

                “Did you tell him?” Francis wrapped her into his arms but the Hungarian was unable to meet his gaze. “Lizzy,” gently he tipped her head up to regard him, “did you tell him you’re leaving?”

                “I couldn’t. He makes me so angry sometimes!”

                Shaking his head softly, Francis couldn’t help but draw her lips into a deep, sensual kiss accented by his hand caressing first her hip, then her back and finally coming to rest on her breast for a more intimate expression of desire making the girl blush. She was such a wanton creature, moaning softly and letting her fingers drift to his waist and set about unbuckling her lover’s pants. Francis loved this side of her, however, and would never be fool enough to let her get away as Roderich did.

                He could not stay all morning, but a hasty brush of a few old volumes of poetry from her desk left him with the perfect surface to deposit the lovely Elizaveta and push up her skirts, moving the crotch of her panties to the side just far enough to slide his eager erection into the hot folds of her cunt. Heaven emanated from the warm depths of her body and all but consumed the Frenchman as Francis grunted and began thrusting his cock deeply within her slit only to pull out achingly slow until just the tip remained inside her. Before she could catch her breath his length was slamming into her again, relentless but aching with passion for her alone.

                Idly she worried whether Roderich might hear the sounds of their labored breathing, the steady thumping of her desk against the wall, the wet slapping noises of his flesh meeting hers in a beautiful cacophony of sexual need, but no knock sounded at her door and Elizaveta was far too enraptured to care, frantically clutching Francis’s shoulders as orgasm after orgasm wracked her body and left her limp but willing around his heated flesh. Her body quaked one last time upon feeling Francis grind his hips into the soft mound of her pussy, and the older man purposely thrust his erection in deep, pressing firmly to the very entrance to her womb before firing spurt after spurt of his semen deep into the Hungarian girl’s body as if claiming her allegiance for the Allies.

                “You will tell him…right?”

                Still breathless, the girl nodded into his shoulder.
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The Twelve Days of Christmas