Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia!
Note: This is my part of a fic exchange with Chou ni Natte! She wrote "Happy Endings" for me, a Russia x America porn-fic. If you're interested, you can find a link to the full version of it on her profile!
This was intended to be sexier than it ended up, but I had fun writing it ;)
"What the bloody fuck are you doing!?"
Arthur thrashed about in the chair he was duct-taped to, making the legs squeak against the polished wood of the floor. Francis grinned even wider and grabbed onto the chair to drag it closer to the food-laden table. The scent of delicate pastries and savory trifles wafted toward the Brit and he was appalled to find his mouth was watering. There was no way he was eating that French slop.
"I tell you, mon ami," Francis began, "your lack of taste is a blemish on the otherwise beautiful Europe. Frankly, it's embarrassing." He pulled his own chair to sit directly in front of his friend and rolled up his sleeves. Arthur fixed a scowl on his face as he watched a plate of pastries settle near him.
"I'm not eating that shite!," he barked and renewed his efforts to wiggle out of the tape. Francis rolled his eyes and picked up a particularly delicious-looking strawberry tart.
"Arthur, you think 'spotted dick' is delectable," he said. "You need to be taught what good food tastes like."
"Shut your face, spotted dick is a respectable English dish!"
"Ça ne m'importe quoi. Dicks should never be spotted."
As Arthur began to retort, Francis pushed the pastry past his lips and pressed his hand against his mouth to keep him from spitting it out. Arthur shook his head and whined against the other man's palm. Francis sighed and held his head still as he brought up his other hand to flick him on the forehead.
"Do stop being so difficult."
The two glared at each other as Arthur gave in and slowly chewed the food in his mouth. When Francis saw him swallow, he removed his hand and used his thumb to wipe away the saliva that had gathered at the corner of the other man's mouth. Arthur felt a small blush creep up his neck. It was one thing to be fed, but to have his mouth wiped as well!
"Let me go, bastard! I've had enough of this!"
"Non, there are still the brésiliennes to try!"
"Bray-what?" Arthur groaned and tried to pick out which dish it could possibly be. Hopefully not that foul-smelling meat nearest him.
Francis reached between Arthur's legs to grab the chair and bring them even closer together. He dipped his index finger into the chocolate mousse protruding from the top of the pastry and offered it to the other man.
"A small test first?," he smirked.
"I'm not--," Arthur cut himself off as the hand moved closer. Francis took Arthur's jaw in his other hand to force his mouth open and pushed his chocolate-covered finger inside.
"Don't you dare bite me, Angleterre," he purred as he spread the sweet, melting chocolate over the man's tongue.
Arthur suppressed his anger and tried to mentally detach himself from the act of sucking on his friend's finger. He figured the sooner he complied, the sooner this mess would be over. Francis would tire of him if he didn't put up a fight.
"Mm, who could have known that your sharp tongue could be so delightful?" Francis smiled perversely before continuing, "Perhaps I should introduce something else to it." He quirked his eyebrows at the furiously blushing man opposite him.
Arthur did bite him, then. Francis shouted and tried to tug his finger from the other man's mouth but Arthur held fast, clamping his teeth down even harder on the finger. Francis bunched up his fist in Arthur's collar and shook him.
"Merde! Lâchez-moi! Ça fait mal, petit bâtard!," he shouted. "Zut, s'il vous plaît!!"
Arthur finally relaxed his jaw and grinned hugely.
"Serves you right, bloody sex-crazed frog!"
Francis whined and inspected the deep teeth-marks in his abused finger.
"Meeerde, on aurait dit une mangouste ou quelque chose!," he pouted and cradled his hand to his chest.
"English, mate," Arthur rolled his eyes. "If you're going to insult me, at least be sure I can understand it."
"If you can't understand, how can you be sure I've just insulted you?"
Arthur opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. He would never admit something so--!
"You do understand Français!," Francis smiled and grabbed the other man's shoulders and began to shake him. "I knew it!!"
"I do not!!," Arthur yelled. "I have no bleeding clue what you're on about!"
Francis didn't drop his smile as he abandoned his seat and instead settled onto Arthur's lap, legs on either side of the chair. Before the smaller man could argue, he grabbed onto the back of his head, tilted it back and kissed him. He was mildly surprised when Arthur did nothing to deter him and instead opened his mouth wider. They kissed long and deep, and Francis was delighted to hear small moans coming from the other man. Finally, he slowly pulled away and rested his forehead against the other's.
"Admit it, mon cher. You may not like my food," he murmured. "But you like something enough to learn my language."
Arthur felt his face heat up once again. Sometimes he couldn't stand how perceptive Francis proved to be.
...Translations...
mon ami- 'my friend'
mon cher- 'my dear'
ça ne m'importe quoi- 'i don't care'
Merde! Lâchez-moi! Ça fait mal, petit bâtard!- 'shit! let go! it hurts, you little bastard!"
Zut, s'il vous plaît!- 'damn it, please!'
Meeerde, on aurait dit une mangouste ou quelque chose!- 'shiiit, you're like a mongoose or something!'
Note: I used a translator, and had help from other lovely reviewers, but do let me know if something needs corrected!
Thank you so much for reading! ;)