[A/N: May I advice everyone to stop and think about life first before moving on with our story.

Okay. Are you done? Dont lie. You didnt reflect, did you? Tsk tsk. Fine, perverts. Continue with the juicy stuffs. Keep in mind that this is an R-MA/18 meaning full of direct sex scene with much details, okay.

... You have been warned.]

[PS: Cover artwork not mine. Credits to its rightful (and great) owner.]

Title: Eyes on Fire

Fandom: Hetalia

Pairing: FrUK (France x England)

Rating: R-18 or R-MA for explicit sexual intercourse, profanities and yaoi. YAOI.

"Merde!" The Frenchman hissed as he was thrown in the ship's wooden floors, back slamming against it with no restrains. There, he could only see darkness. The blindfolds wrapped around his vision restricted him from seeing the faces of his enemies. Wrists and ankles wrapped around ungodly knots that limit his movements. The smell of uncurtail rum filling his lungs as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

'Ugh. Rum lovers.'

"Captain Bonnefoy." A called. Voice slurred and satiated with menace and ill intention, but in which he has never heard before. Unsteady footsteps were heard, as the stranger loomed before him – closing the distance between them.
Francis grit his teeth, brows furrowed as he prepared himself for the worst beating of the person he could not even see.

"Head of the French Colonial Empire's conquistador. The one who tampered the Sub-Saharan terrain."

His half-drunk abductor unsheathes the blade from his side, placing the tip of it on the French's chin. The cold, sharp metal met his skin, sending a short-lived shiver on his surface.

He was caught. All thanks to his misinformation from the map that lead to the foreign ships in search for new vast lands to conquer. The same reason he embarked on his journey himself. The next thing he knew, his crew was being attacked and surrounded. Probably to be left in their cells to rot, or to be killed by their own blades. Nevertheless, he was separated from his men before all things else. And being the captain that he is, his soul dared not to speak a single word if this were an interrogation. He had his own ideals and no alien pack rat could break in that easily.

"What on earth do you want?!" He growled, thrashing against the cloth, most likely silk, wrapped securely around his limbs.
"Calm down, love." His tone was neither soothing nor assuring. Somewhere in between the words, his tongue injected some kind of a sinister intention as they rolled off his lips. "This here is mere business. And I'm here to collect my prize."
He was talking of nothing else but the lands the French would have owned. There was no need to say, for both are already aware. Those were the days wherein the globe was dominated with greed and envy – landmass and wealth being fought over to gain power in their favor.

Francis yanked the knots around his wrists, now rather gently. His skills and focus all intended for escaping the bind. He knew well how capable his sleek hands are, and it was possible to break free… only if he was allotted with enough time.
"Non!" He recognized his own voice, hoarse as he searched for his captor in the dark. He needed to buy time. For a single second would help him escape death.
"Non! Va te faire foutre!" This time, he wasn't even thinking of what he was saying. Whatever they may be, they did help stop the man from plunging his blade into his heart. Even if he would anger him a thousand times more, Francis did not care. Pirates aren't supposed to go down without fighting…

There was silence.

Away from the abductor's eyes, the Bonnefoy continued to work his way out of the bind. A very slow process, but it was a process none the less.
"That, I cannot do, poppet."
The sword was back – ripping the French's white top, much to his surprise. Chiseled chest now exposed to the world, not that he mind in the first place.
"Mon Dieu! That was superior fabric!"
"Oh. Would you rather your skin to be torn?" The stranger weaved over him, the scent of rum now even stronger.
Francis' cheeks were grasped, squishing his beautiful face with the pressure. He attempted to pull away, but the kidnapper's grip only tightened to forsake his efforts.
"Don't hold back. I want my victims feisty." Hot breath met his face, making him crinkle his nose.
Only then did he realize how close the alien was.

A hand was slipped within his snagged garment, tracing his toned torso very lightly. Yet such simple gestures always sent shivers down the French's spine.
"Death is too early, don't you think?" A chuckle echoed throughout the room. This is something the Frenchman didn't expect, even if he was never the unadultered one.
"Don't play with fire, mon ami. You might get burned." His voice did not betray him in hiding every ounce of his emotions, yet his adversary refused to listen.
The others' hand ran up and down his body, teasing. Francis, being the one always so easily arouse, couldn't help not to let out a groan.
Soon enough, the cover that blinded him from the world was removed. Revealing a smirking Briton before his eyes.
"… Kirkland?" He never did meet him personally. But that doesn't mean he was never heard of. The name of Arthur Kirkland was spread like wild-fire, across the seven seas – making it impossible for him not to realize who he was dealing with. That blonde spiky hair before his eyes accompanied by those set of hard, emerald orbs were unmistakable.
"I see you've heard of me, frog-face. Worry not. This will be good torture."
The Bonnefoy watched him tear his shirt further, completely undressing his top. With his mouth agape, Arthur began pressing his lips on one of his nipples, while the other being accompanied by his skillful fingers.
"Hhn… putain!" Francis pant. By which only give the younger the gallant to push this even further – tongue now licking and sucking the hardened bud. And then being followed by the other with the same treatment.
He wanted his hands back, but keeping track with his break-away plan seems to be getting more and more difficult with his adversary's doing.
The Brit straddled him, cool hands rubbing his sides. His lips crawled up to Francis' neck as his body reacted just the way he wanted – arching his back and cranking his neck for easier access.
"Briton, what is this torture y—aah!"
Arthur's tongue flicked and suckled on a spot that perfectly hit his companion out of luck. Smirking and grinding his hips on the other as he felt a tight bulge begin to form on Francis. It's beginning to drive him insane, lying there helpless as he worked his way through him.

Jade eyes sparkled with venom. Clearly, he was quite intoxicated with the alcohol. And the fact that Brits aren't always the best drunk sent no comfort. England bit his bottom lip seductively, staring down at the blue hot pools of his company.
His slender fingers reached for Francis' swelling, cupping it tauntingly before his constraining trousers. Actions rewarded by his moans that thrilled the Kirkland even more.
"My, my, Captain Bonnefoy." Arthur cooed, reaching up to his pants' waistline and pulling it down painfully slow. He could feel his own member harden as he watched the French in amusement with his distortion. His torment equaling to his own malicious glee.
"Mon Che–" He was cut off with a gasp, as the Kirkland stroked his stiff length lightly. Shudders ran through his body like electricity, always accompanied by more uncontained moans.
The sound he was eliciting only stirred the Brit to do more, ofcourse. He wrapped his fingers around his member, rubbing and squeezing it every now and then. Pre-cum now starting to trickle as he pant, trying to steady himself and keep his roots on reality.
Arthur smirked ominously, pressing the matter even worse by leaning down and lapping the tip with his tongue.
"Ahng!"
Filled with pure amusement, his fingers found the bollocks and began to rub and fondle them whilst his mouth did wonders. Taking Francis in and skillfully wrapping his tongue around him as he sucked and pumped. The older nation cried, throwing back his head. The sensation was just too agonizingly good with the Brit's surprising expertise.
"Cherie! This comes with a price!"
The younger nation pulled away, licking his lips while never taking off his gaze at his company.
Cerulean eyes are now moist. France's suffering worsening every time he tried to gag his hands and ankles through the knots. It has been too much torture for the poor French, and he's starting to reach his breaking point.
This did not go by unnoticed by Arthur, ofcourse – as he sensed Francis' member twitch in rack. A laugh broke the tension. He leaned down and pressed his lips on the older's earlobe.
"What price, frog? Maybe you're forgetting the one who's in bind." Tongue flicked down his ear-shell to his throat tauntingly, as his fingertips stroked his erect length – prolonging the agony.
"This bind wont hold me down for long, Mon lapin." A small smirk etched his lips, trying to wash away the fatigue that pooled from his abdomen to down under. With hasty breathing, he closed his eyes and tried to pull his attention back to untying himself before his mind would completely abandon him – which is only a few moments away from how he was now. It was painful, muffling his moans and groans before they escape his lips and be fed by the Brit.
A few more twist and turns. Ignore the lustful tongue of the other, licking and sucking a tender spot on his neck – leaving as much hickies as he could.
It may have seemed forever, and it took every ounce of endurance the Frenchman have had his entire lifetime, but he knew well the tables were flipped and turned the moment the precious cloth loosened a bit. Yet enough for him to break free. Without wasting another moment, he gagged his wrists apart. The ripping sound giving him the power he once lost, but to be replenished immediately.

It all happened too fast. One second, he was indulging himself with the sweet torture his opponent was in – clearly winning. The next, Arthur was being thrown on bed at a blink of an eye. The Bonnefoy crawled over him as he watched in surprise, and a little mix of terror behind those wide emerald eyes.
"I will fuck you so hard, you wont be able to stand for a week, Cherie."
Those once cerulean misty eyes are now hard and lustful, tracing the Englishman's skin and drinking in every form of reaction he makes.
The half-drunk pirate could feel his own urge come to life, but tried to conceal it by putting up a scowl and opening his mouth in anger.
"You son of a-! Hnng~"
Francis pressed his lips forcefully on the other, yet never failing to be gentle. After the initial shock, Arthur finally ceased and returned his kisses, lips just as hungry and thirsty. Gruff moans from the English escaped his throat while his lips were being licked, asking permission that only him could decide. He parted his lips as an answer and let his opponent explore the marvels of his mouth. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he fought back for dominance. Tongue looping and dancing in such steamy manner.
The Frenchman pulled away for air, only to return by attacking on his vulnerable neck.
"Ahh - Ha… Bonnefoy." He managed to breath out, his hand tangled with his soft, long golden mane and the other on his torso.
There was no more time for unbuttoning shirts, as Francis ripped his top apart with strength. His hands ran down his chest, marveling its slender but toned structure, and down to the waistline of his pants to strip them off.
"It's Francis, Captain Arthur." The sound of his name rolling before his tongue with his own accent seductively was enough to make his cock twitch as the older yanked it gently. He whimpered, but this did not stop the French from giving his erect length a handjob while the other hand tweaked his nipple, sending him to pure bliss as he threw his head back and groaned in pleasure.
Francis grinned maliciously, before leaning down to take the hard cock into his own mouth. Nipping its head gently before sucking all the way down his length.
"Ahnn!" Arthur arched his back, buckling his hips unto Francis' rhythm to meet his mouth deeper. His act created a moaning mess - panting and gasping as his partner worked his awing ways. It drove him delirious, reality slowly slipping out of his reach. Long tongue being wrapped and flicking teasingly his member in pure pleasure.

The older of the two could feel his partner on the edge of release, but he only kept going. Moans and cries filling up the room were enough to operate him continuously. He could feel his own lance twitch in excitement, as he sucked the cock even harder down his throat.
"F-Francis! You git! Ah!"
Arthur gave up along his orgasm. Releasing his juices on France as he compliantly swallowed, licking his lips and fingers enticingly. The younger crashed down the bed, heaving and panting. Intimate set of emerald orbs following the other. Face flushed as a cherry.

"This is far from over, amour."
The French reached out on one of the side drawers, hands snatching a small bottle as he squirted lots on his fingers. He then spread Arthur's legs, as he wrapped them around his waist automatically. Waiting for things to fasten.
A wicked grin was painted on Francis' face as he reached down in between of his buttocks.
A finger was inserted. Leaving the Englishman squirming from the touch as he explored the tightness even deeper.
Another followed shortly, making a scissoring motion – adjusting the tight entrance. He began to pump eventually, maddening his partner even more especially when another digit was injected. He found Arthur's fingers laced around his hair as the shivers took over his spine, unable to hide his wails out of pleasure. Fastening himself with the beat of his fingers, gunning the most sensitive parts which much accuracy inside of him.
"Mon Deiu." He breath out, removing his digits slowly now that the younger seems to be ready. A whimper escaped Arthur's lips as they were out of him, which in turn only made the French smirk furiously.
"The old and proud British Empire, entreating for me like a common slut."
"You bloody wanton! Just hurry up!"
Francis crawled on top of him. His own cock taunting Arthur's entrance that only made him grow more and more frustrated.
"Beg, Angleterre."
"What?!"
His member penetrated the others' opening a little, only to agonize the impatient Brit.
"Beg. Now." He whispered, nibbling on his earlobe.
A lump formed in the younger's throat. His body craved for it. He needed it. This was no time for pride, though he did have way too much to start with.
"… P-please." His voice was hitched as his green eyes stared back at the blue pools, filled with sincere needing that Francis could no way refuse. He received a smile in response. A smile that hid no malice, rather a genuine one that made it as if he was looking up at an angel.
"Je veux t'enculer, Mon Amour."

He pushed himself within, that caused the Brit to let out an ecstatic cry. Fingernails were dug into his back – dragging them down as they left quite some marks while the Frenchman whispered assuring words to calm him down, waiting for him to adjust.
Their lips met, travelling into another deep, passionate kiss that secured both of them to safety and protection.

"Ah! Angleterre… Y-you're too tight."

Both bodies were entangled with one another, in a trance that burned down their highest walls. Tears began to flow from the Englishman's eyes as he pulled away and squirmed a little on the French's member, motioning for the other to move.

Francis intercepted this signal, and held Arthur's hips in place as he thrust in and out at a slow pace to start with, but it wasn't long when the Brit could no longer take any more of it.
"Hnn! F-faster, You git!"
"Ohh. How impatient of you, master." This caused the older to smirk, and slacken the tempo.
"Faster!" He demanded, eyes were cold, glaring at the face above him.
Arthur pushed his hips down to meet Francis halfway, but this is something the older did not approve. He pinned him down by the shoulder in response, shaking his head disappointedly.
"I taught you how to beg, didn't I? Ask for it, and I will obey. Say the magic word."
"F-Francis." A tear ran down his cheek without his own knowledge, whimpering. "Will you please go fucking faster?"

Just as promised, the French obeyed. He planted a kiss on Arthur's forehead before hitting the younger's special spots as he clawed desperately on him like his life depended on it, closing in every inches of their skin. He wailed Francis' name in the heavens, in which the French also did, vice versa. It was pure flesh and bliss that entrapped the both of them into this situation as they kissed and held each other in their arms.
Their tongue danced the forbidden dance that awakened all of their senses at once.
"Hnn~F-Francis! I… I - ah!"
A few more thrust and Arthur spilled his second orgasm, both of their stomachs being lathered with his seeds.
"H-haa… Mon ange~"
It wasn't long when Francis followed. Warm, wet climax filling him in as his eyes rolled in the back of his head, body feeling sore and limp. Francis slowed down, then removing his wet cock from Arthur as he wrapped his arms around him, both panting and exhausted while they crashed themselves on the comforts of the sheets.

"The British Empire has fallen, non?" He whispered soothingly on his ear, not in his usual annoying tone for once.
"You fucking git. I hate you."
"Hnn. I warned you about the price you'll pay. But I'm glad you decided to spare my life, Mon Ami."
Arthur yawned, which in turn, melted Francis' heart surprisingly. Who knew there could be moments he would look so adorable to the world's eyes? But then again, everything was beautiful when filtered with the French's vision.
"Don't get your hopes up. I will still kill you, you bloody frog."
"Which means this wouldn't be the last, Oui?"
"… M-maybe." Arthur blushed, hiding his face from the chuckling Francis as sleep began to take him away.
A smile was drawn on the French's face as he closed his eyes and followed his love to slumber. If torture was this good, then gladly would he receive the cuffs and shackles.

Merde - "Shit"
Va te faire foutre - "Go fuck yourself"
Cherie/mon ami - "Dear"
Mon Lapin - "My Rabbit"
Amour - "Love"
Mon Ange - "My angel"
Je veux t'enculer - "I want to fuck you"