Hold Me Up
A short little story about Francis and Lovino, three years after an accident that leaves Francis blind.
I do not own Hetalia, France or South Italy obviously.
Francis holds tightly to the hand wound around his fingers. It was warm summer day, and he was with the man he loved. He was happy, and the fact that he had lost all his sight three years ago didn't change that. Lovino Vargas, his lover, partner, friend, had married him four years ago. The year after, there was accident that would leave Francis Bonnefoy completely blind.
It was a challenge at first. However, they had managed to fight through it, and the changes they had to make had become routine now. There were still times when Francis would get frustrated, and break down, but Lovino was always there to pull him out of his dark times. Other instances, Lovino would get angry at Francis for trying to do things on his own when he should have asked for help, always worried that the Frenchman would get himself hurt, but in the end they worked through it.
As Francis tangles his fingers with the other's, and leans against Lovino for support, he feels as if everything was right in place. They walk together in step, until they finally reach their home, and Francis is ushered inside by his ever protective husband.
"I'll get started on dinner." Lovino tells him, his fingers moving up to his neck to loosen the buttons on Francis' shirt. Francis grabs his wrist, and tilts his head forward, pressing a light kiss to the other's lips.
"I can undo my own shirt." He mumbles softly. Lovino huffs, and pulls back abruptly from the kiss.
"I know that! I was just trying to help god damn it." A soft chuckle comes from the Frenchman as his arms are promptly laced around the other's neck, pressing close against the warm, Italian body. Though he couldn't see it, the image of a scowl pressed onto Lovino's face still pops into his head. He's thankful that he had met Lovino before he lost his sight. It let him imagine what the other looked like, and the assortment of expressions on his face. He knew him so well, that it was like he had never gone blind when it came to Lovino.
"I know you're just trying to help…. Merci. I appreciate it."
Huffing, Lovino nods, and kisses Francis, cupping his cheeks in his hands. It's a sweet short kiss, and when he's done, he leans up and places another on the Frenchman's forehead. "You can sit in the kitchen with me." He says, not asking, but demanding the other's presence. Without another word, he takes his hand, and leads him to the kitchen.
When dinner is cooked and eaten, they head up to their bedroom, and collapses onto the sea of sheets together. Soon enough, they find themselves entangled in each other. The lights are kept off, because they aren't needed anyways. They both liked it dark, because it let Lovino experience what Francis was experiencing. They're able to draw closer, touching, kissing, and re-learning the other's body each night.
One things leads to another, and they're clothes are thrown off to the side. Long fingers trail along the Italian's body, and he shudders with delight. The rest of the night is filled with the sounds of their gasps and moans, the loud metallic creaking of the springs, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Sometimes it's sweet, and filled with their love for each other, and at that moment it truly is lovemaking. Sometimes it's needy, and greedy, their musky smells mixing together with the smell of lust as it fills the air, and they devour each other with their passions.
Tonight is just what they need. Hands linked, as there lower bodies are. They're movements are slow, and sensual, and oozing with love. Tonight Francis demands control, and Lovino arches against him, letting him have it because he knows that's the one thing Francis misses after losing his sight.
The next morning, Lovino wakes first this time, resting on top of Francis' chest. He smiles slightly as he watches the other sleep. Impatient to start the day though, he leans up, and nips at the other's bottom lip, urging him awake. "Oi..Francis. Wake up idiot."
Francis responds with a soft groan, shifting slightly. His eyes slowly open, even though everything is still dark. He smiles to his lover's voice, and runs his hand down his back
"Buongiorno amore mio…." Francis mumbles in his strongly accented Italian. His hands find their way to the Italian's cheeks, stroking them with his thumbs .They move over the rest of his face, gently and slowly, each little detail coming back to him.