Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Matthew is Mine	By : flagfish Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 9688 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, nor do I make any money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
Francis’ strong arms all around him, Arthur continued kissing the other boy, hungrily, eagerly, drunkenly—
Francis laughed with vast amusement as he teetered down the hall, trying to keep up, trying to kiss back,
"Du vin, je vous pris, apportez-moi une bouteille de vin, avec deux verres, tout de suite,"
Wine, please, get me a bottle of wine, two glasses, right away,
He whispered to the butler just as his back came gracelessly into contact with his bedchamber door. Still holding Arthur up, he clumsily managed to get a hold on the handle, fumbling for several moments before finally getting it to twist.
He laughed, and Arthur also laughed, and he could just barely maintain his balance long enough to walk to the bed before they both collapsed there, Arthur’s hands already tugging on the various bindings of Francis’ clothes.
“Hey, hey…”
Francis crooned softly, smiling, affectionate, Arthur’s hands were demanding, aggressive and rough, and Francis marveled at how direct he was, how stubborn and possessive he became when he was drunk.
“You’ll tear it off,”
He warned, and it came more as an informative status report than a warning or any sign of discontentment on his part.
Arthur didn’t tear his clothes off, though, because there really were too many intricately-wound latches and laces and binds for him to really get anything off him successfully enough, and Francis laughed, helpfully guiding his fingers to the right places with patient regard.
His fingers worked carefully, with knowing attention at Arthur’s trousers, as well, just barely able to get them off as the younger boy continued to kiss him all throughout, still graceless, still slurring drunken, murderous threats—
Francis lapped at the hard insistence at his briefs, from outside the restraint of the cloth, devious, teasing, and even before this, his briefs already were completely wet, he tasted so nice, and Francis vastly enjoyed tormenting him this way—
Arthur was quite aggravated though, and, with a harsh tug at Francis’ hair, he attempted to direct him toward his bare skin.
“You insufferable tease—”
he muttered hoarsely, and Francis’ lips parted in pain and surprise, one hand reaching to loosen his grip on his hair.
“So impatient…”
he murmured with gentle reprimand, long fingers sliding under the cloth of his briefs. Hand still gloved, Arthur still hadn’t let go of his hair, and Francis gazed at him through disheveled strands, red tongue reaching slowly to lick at the skin just at his stomach.
“Is this what you wanted,”
He crooned, generously speaking to him in English, words accented in French, but Arthur would still have loved nothing more than to tell him to do something better with his mouth than to talk.
He didn’t tell him, he merely gazed at him instead, eyes tearing with frustration, cheeks flushed with arousal, head swinging with liquor, just do it, you wine bastard, do it already—
Francis slowly tugged at the tight cloth, fingers delicate as they pulled it gently away, and he smiled to himself as he took careful hold of Arthur's wet member.
Fingers still in his hair.
He licked absently at his lips as he gazed with quiet appreciation at the member in his hand, glistening slick and very hot, hard, the fluid trailing slowly from the tip and in-between his fingers to Arthur’s thigh beneath.
Green eyes glittering liquid, Arthur gazed back down, breath coming hot with desperation; he’d run out of patience. He gripped hard at Francis’ hair, forced him down all at once, the boy’s voice coming sharp with surprise as the member slid clear past his lips, missing his mouth entirely and sliding wet along his face.
“Ah—ah—okay, d'accord—”
okay, all right—
He reached with one finger to wipe gently at the clear liquid at his chin and bottom lip, then licked at it slowly.
“England, you still taste so nice,”
he whispered, and, not wishing to suffer any more graceless abuse, he then allowed the tip of his member in past his lips, licking at it slowly.
Arthur gasped.
“Like this?"
Francis breathed, lips moving wet against the tip, and, holding it firmly in his hand, he slowly reached with his tongue to lap at the hot streamlets running down the hard length.
With his other hand, he worked at removing Arthur’s shoes, then his stockings, and his trousers after that, men wore such intricate clothing in those days, but Francis proceeded with relative ease, proficient as he were at undressing others—
And good thing, too, as Arthur was entirely wet by that time, his thighs glistening and slick, and Francis parted them gently, lovingly, never asking him to loosen his grip in his hair as he proceeded to kiss and lick at his inner thigh.
He'd hardly come up for air at all, long fingers gripping hard at Arthur’s legs and head buried in the slick enclosure in-between, Arthur crying and cursing and clenching his teeth when there came the knock on the door.
“Entrez,”
Come in,
Francis just barely managed to call out, and, had he been a little less drunk, a little less preoccupied and hot with arousal, Arthur would probably have blushed, he probably would have scrambled quickly to his feet, or punched Francis, or pushed him aside, but he did none of those things, he merely remained mostly on his back, propped up by one elbow, hand gripping Francis’ hair and pressing him farther down against his hips.
The butler walked in, entirely unaffected and composed, and, glancing up from in-between Arthur’s thighs, Francis licked at his lips, catching his breath as just barely he managed,
“Merci, s'il vous plait déposez le sur la table de nuit.”
Thank you, please put it on the night table there.
The butler nodded, hardly batting an eye as he set the tray down, a bottle of wine and two glasses, carefully arranging and pouring the liquor even as Francis returned to his ministrations at Arthur’s lap.
"S'il vous plait, apportez-moi en un,"
Please bring one to me,
he stopped having at him long enough to say, and the man did, now picking up one of the crystal goblets and bringing it to Francis, carefully placing it in his waiting hand.
"Y a t'il autre chose?"
Will there be anything else?
"Non, merci, ce sera tout."
No, thank you, that will be all.
The butler turned quietly to leave, and Francis gazed contentedly at the glass, the crystal glimmering and reflecting the light of the chandelier.
“Drink,”
he said softly to Arthur, reaching out and holding the goblet to the other boy’s mouth.
Go to hell, you wine bastard.
Shut up and get back to what you were doing.
Don’t you think we’ve been drinking enough.
Arthur parted his lips around the crystal rim, allowing the liquid inside. It tasted good, hot, a little bit sweet and a little bit bitter, and he found himself taking the glass with both hands, finally releasing Francis’ hair, drinking with a strange sort of thirst.
“Ah, ah—”
Francis warned, gently prying it away,
“this is for me.”
Arthur reached after the glass as Francis removed it, the wine still hot and red on his lips, and Francis leaned forth to kiss him, mouth pressed tightly to his, he thought that from Arthur’s mouth it tasted even nicer than just by itself—
His laughter came low then, quiet, knowing, he licked at his lips, brought the glass to his own mouth and sipped at it slowly, patience, he crooned, blue eyes twinkling as he gazed back, slowly decanting the glass over the boy's abdomen.
Arthur gasped. The fluid ran cold, deep red from the skin at his flat stomach to his thighs and the bed sheets below, staining them dark, and even as Arthur began to recover from shock and to hurl expletives at him instead, Francis dove down at him, hungrily pressing his mouth to the skin there and lapping, biting, having at him until the expletives turned to incoherent, desperate moans—
“You want me to fuck you,”
Francis crooned, as though it weren’t a query at all but rather acknowledgement of mutual understanding, and before he could restrain himself or remember to tell Francis at all just what a disgusting pervert he thought he was, Arthur heard himself breathe,
“God, yes—”
To be continued…
- 25
- 26
- 27
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Matthew is Mine