Strong arms were wrapped around him and felt himself be lifted into the air. The lips he was kissing were chapped but no less delicious for it. His hands travelled up the strong neck and entangled themselves in fiery hair; they tightened when he felt teeth bite his lip.
A hand made its way under his fine silk shirt and toyed with the skin underneath. Then those strong hands grabbed his hips and threw him onto the bed behind him...
France woke up. He was panting and sweating.
This dream was always the same; he woke up as soon as he hit the bed. Of course he remembered what really happened that night but when he dreamed about it he never got to the end. He was always left dissatisfied.
This always happened when he began thinking about Scotland, they were still the auld alliance but they hardly saw each other anymore. Their alliance had been thinned down but neither of them could bring themselves to dissolve it completely. 700 years it had been since they had entered into that pack and even then they had already known each other for a good number of centuries. For the life of him France couldn't understand why they kept breaking up ... oh wait a minute yes he could.
Scotland always broke it off when he found the blond nation getting into bed with some other country. Loyalty was very important to Scotland which is probably why he never abandoned France in his hours of need (no matter how little the latter did for him in return) but it was also probably why he couldn't accept France the way he was. If France wasn't going to be faithful then the red-head couldn't be with him.
Of course France always succeeded in winning him back. Despite his rough exterior and tough reputation, Scotland was a sucker for sweet words. Not to mention a very sexual country (which was to France's advantage).
The truth was; that was the case for all the British nations. They all had libidos the size of the Oceans but they always kept them bottled up, monogamous and behind closed doors. That was something France couldn't never understand, love was meant to be free and widely expressed, and it didn't do good to keep it bottled up. So the blond nation didn't understand why Scotland got so jealous when he gave his attention to another country; there was more than enough of him to go around.
Of course at the moment it never occurred to France that whenever Scotland and he were broken up and he saw his ex with someone else he was no better. When that happened all he wanted to do was grabbed the red-headed nation and drag him away. Unfortunately he didn't have the luxury of doing that because Scotland's last lover was Russia and France (as much as he wanted to) wouldn't even dare touch Scotland in the presence of that nation.
Still, France had to do something about these dreams. He hated waking up feeling hot and bothered and dissatisfied. He tried on more than one occasion to go out and find a one night stand but even when he did, he was still dissatisfied and his own touch did no better.
Scotland would be at the conference of countries tomorrow. Surprisingly it was England's idea. He was doing it to appease Scotland's troublesome boss because if he didn't do something to make Scotland feel more important then, that would just further push the Scottish people to vote in favour of independence and the UK couldn't afford that, especially in this delicate economic crisis.
Still, even though the conference was tomorrow France just couldn't wait until then to get these feelings out of the way and plus, Russia would be there. France couldn't talk very intimately to his ex if Russia was there. Even though Scotland had long since broken up with the large, slightly unstable nation; Russia still didn't seem to like seeing the redhead with anyone else and France could see where he was coming from.
So the blond nation looked through the info pamphlet he was given for this meeting and looked up which hotel Scotland would be staying in. Once he found that he picked up the phone and dialed the number asking to be put through to his ex-lover's room.
"Do you know what bloody time it is?" mumbled a tired and irritated voice which picked up after the fifth ring.
France smiled, he missed that voice. Scotland was very much a morning person but he did not appreciate being woken up this early in the morning. "C'est moi, mon amour," drawled France slowly in the way he knew Scotland liked.
"France?" questioned the man on the other end of the line. "I repeat; do you know what bloody time it is."
France chuckled, "Je suis desole." he knew he could get Scotland awake and listening if he was just given a few minutes to work his magic but then he heard another voice in the background.
"Is someone there with you?" France asked, unconsciously abandoning his seductive tone.
Scotland sighed, "Look France whatever this is I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow. Ok, see you later."
And then he hung up. France didn't know how long he lay there staring at his hotel phone. So Scotland had a guest, who was it? What were they like? How long had they been going out? Was it serious?
All these questions whirled through the French Nation's mind and he wasn't quite sure why; he didn't own Scotland. The man was free to do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted. Wasn't that what France had said the whole time they had been together?
Ah but there was a difference there, France had been talking about his right to do what he wanted with whomever he wanted. It had never occurred to him that Scotland had the same right.
France didn't sleep for the rest of the night. Not only was he now sexually dissatisfied and overflowing with feelings of jealousy and possessiveness (though he would never admit that) but now he was petrified about tomorrow's conference. He was sure he knew that voice he had heard in the background.
As France picked out his outfit for the conference that morning, for once he was not entirely focused on his appearance. He just couldn't get that voice in Scotland's hotel room out of his head. He was positive he knew that voice but he couldn't place it.
Maybe it was Russia. The large, unstable nation had more than once tried (very clumsily) to get into Scotland's good books again but he had always failed miserably.
France still remembered when Scotland first started seeing Russia. It was at a conference between countries concerning the distribution of the world's fish and since Scotland was one of the foremost producers of fish he had to be there.
The redhead had stared at the large nation all through the meeting and when it ended with Russia becoming Scotland's third largest customer in the fishing industry, the redhead stood up and started to go towards Russia. At first France thought he was just going to say hello but when Scotland pulled back his fist and connected it directly with Russia's jaw the entire room felt a simultaneous wave of terror sweep through them.
What in the holy hell was Scotland thinking? Sure Scotland was an accomplished fighter and contrary to what England would like to believe and a lot of other people in the world might think, he had never been conquered. Even the mighty Roman Empire had not managed it but Scotland's specialty was Guerrilla warfare, hit and run tactics and land advantage.
The reason Scotland had been so successful in a lot of battles was because they were fought on home ground where he could make use of his hills and trees and bridges. This is what made him a great warrior and sure he was good at hand to hand combat too but he didn't have a prayer at beating Russia.
What in the hell was he thinking?
As expected the fight lasted less than five minutes. Scotland made use of his tactical mind to get a few good hits in here and there but though the blows made bruises and drew blood they did little but further enrage the Russian.
Russia had his hands around Scotland's throat and had thrown him onto the conference table growling down at him menacingly. France thought he saw a slight flash of fear makes its way through Scotland's eyes but the redhead didnf37 't turn away. Instead he opened his mouth and said, "Feel better big man?"
Then, as if he had seen something he had not laid eyes on for a long time, Russia removed his hands from Scotland's throat where bruises were already being to form, and stood back to look at the smaller nation.
Russia turned and marched out of the room and Scotland, as if unconcerned for his own safety (as always, France thought) followed him.
It was not long after that that it was clear that Scotland and Russia were involved in something more than just trade. If anyone so much as looked at Scotland, Russia would put his arm around the redhead's waist none too gently. The latter would always shake him off, annoyed but it was clear as always Scotland liked the attention. He was always a very loud nation especially after he entered into his union with his brother. It was clear that he would not allow people to forget him.
France stared at the shirt he had picked out for the conference and as he put it on he thought, 'Could it be Russia?'
No it couldn't, if it was Russia there was little chance Scotland would have answered the phone. Either he would have been busy having (extremely rough) sex with the violent nation or he would be passed out from the activity.
And even if that wasn't the case, Russia never let Scotland answer his phone anyway. Scotland ended up punching him for that more than a few times (thankfully with no severe repercussions), he didn't like being dictated by anyone.
Even so Russia was larger and stronger and didn't like the redhead talking to other nations no matter what the reason might be so if Russia was the one in bed with Scotland it would have been he who answered the phone.
No it wasn't Russia.
As France made himself breakfast that morning he still couldn't figure out who that voice was. Scotland had had a lot of lovers which was hard for France to comprehend seeing as he only saw one at a time.
He had a lot of human lovers who he met in the pub or out on the town but they were mostly one night stands and France hadn't met a lot of them so this only reinforced the fact that the voice on the other end of the phone last night was definitely a nation and one France knew very well.
It could be Norway.
Norway was perhaps Scotland's first acquaintance besides his siblings. He and the Nordic country fought quite a lot during the medieval ages. Their arguments over the north islands Orkney and Shetland were endless in those days but Alexander II of who was the first King of every part of Scotland drove them out.
Ever since then Norway and Scotland have been great friends. It is hard to believe that people doing so much bloody and gory fighting can eventually become close but they were both the kinds of countries that could forgive anything they didn't think was personal but if it was personal then they would hold onto their grudges forever. Scotland's relationship with his brother England being a prime example and Norway's similar relationship with Denmark being another.
They tried being in a proper relationship for a while but all that did was convince them that they were much better as friends. Although that didn't stop them from remembering how great the sex was between them. There was always passion because they was usually fighting. They would provoke fist fights with each other on purpose just to feel the adrenaline rush flow through them and then they would release that adrenaline by jumping straight into bed with each other. The only rule was; the winner got to be on top.
They were both far too proud to concede domination so they always fought before they slept together; it was like a tradition. It usually happened after one of them had broken up with someone or someone had pissed one of them off in some way. They released all their anger onto each other because as far as they were concerned the other was the only one who could understand and take it.
France remembered that after Scotland went protestant the red head broke up with him. Of course finding France flirting shamelessly with the Netherlands (who was less than interested (1)) didn't exactly help ease their religious tensions but the point is afterwards France saw Norway covered in bruises and Hickeys (although he looked like he didn't have a care in the world). He didn't think much of it at the start but when he saw Scotland nursing a dislocated shoulder and dabbing a bite mark on his arm France knew exactly what the two old rivals had been doing.
Friends with benefits was probably what you would call Scotland and Norway. Whenever they were pissed off they could always count on each other to release their tensions.
Could it be Norway?
No it couldn't. The truth was; if it was Norway then France would have been able to hear him very clearly in the back ground. He was rather quiet these days but when he was around Scotland his ancient, primal Viking side came out and he shouted and grunted and cursed at the top of his lungs.
If it was Norway then that was what France would have heard in the background, not a soft whisper. Plus, even if the other nation was asleep he would have heard loud snoring in the background. This didn't bother Scotland seeing as he was an extremely deep sleeper and could sleep anywhere at any time.
France always use to love that about him because it meant he could run his fingers all over Scotland's body and through his hair and down into other places and the other nation wouldn't even stir.
Anyway, that settled it. It couldn't be Norway either.
Round about 1570 (when Scotland was undergoing drastic religious reformation) and Admiral of Charles IX of France was desperately trying to form alliances with the English and the Dutch.