A little one shot for you people!
And what is this? A different pairing? Why yes it is...
While I usually am mostly an Australia x Scotland fan, the fan paring of the 'Auld Alliance' has also been growing on me. Auld Alliance is the name for the pairing of Scotland and France, since it is historically accurate...somewhat.
So this is based on a roleplay between me and my friend StrawberryPickStix. I was Scotland while she was France.
This is dedicated to her, and apparantly her cousin who wanted a fan fic on this to happen X3
Title: Our Auld Alliance
Pairing: Scotland x France
Rating: M (for smex)
Enjoy! Translations at the end!
Scotland sighed quietly to himself, having lost interest in listening to the droning on of his English brother ages ago and was now focused on the whisky that was left in his glass. He wasn't even sure why exactly he was here, nothing he said really mattered and whenever he was noticed it was because of the glass in his hand. Did it matter? Russia had finished a whole bottle of vodka earlier and nobody batted an eyelid. It was definitely discrimination against him and he blamed England. It was always England's fault.
France stared at his fingers, which he was using to trace little designs on the smooth wood of the table. How long was England going to ramble for? Looking up, he could see that even Egypt's eyelids were drooping in boredom. He resisted the urge to sigh and scanned the table for other looks of utter 'Dead-to-the-world'. His eyes landed on Scotland, three seats down on the other side of the table. His eyes seemed to be fixated on the whiskey in his hand; apparently he didn't really care what England was saying. He swished the amber liquid a bit, still staring like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. France merely cocked his head to the side, eyes lingering on the redhead. What was on his mind...?
Mother Britannia, he was so bored! He had to shut England up somehow, anything at all! "Hey...Albion..." Scotland called with a small smirk on his face. Oh, England's attention was on him now! Good, that had shut him up, using his very first name. That always hit a nerve in the blonde. "Do you remember Bannockburn in 1314? Wasn't that a good battle? When I kicked your sorry face into the mud..." he chuckled with a glint in his eye. There it was, his English brother's face was turning red! There was no way he was going to carry on with his boring talk now! "That was a very good year..." Scotland purred with another sip of whisky. "So, who's next?"
France chuckled to himself as a very flustered Englishman took his seat beside a smirking America. He gazed back over at Scotland, who wore a 'Cat-that-ate-the-canary' grin, looking very triumphant in the process. France gave him an admiring gaze; certinly he was good at teasing Angleterre, but Ecosse was a master at it. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two from him... The thought made him smile as he turned to Russia at the head of the table. At least he wasn't looking up at Angleterre anymore...
That was much better now that the blonde man had shut up to let him enjoy his whisky in peace. Scotland wasn't too sure who was speaking next, since he didn't know that many foreign nations. Actually he chose not to know many nations as everyone was just a threat to him. He was wondering how his best friend Nessie was doing back home, would she be ok all alone in the loch? A dreamy smile was on his face as he thought about what he would when he went home. Scotland walked his beloved white terrier Rum, they would visit Nessie and talk for hours about what the faeries were up to...and laugh at Arthur for believing in unicorns.
It wasn't very long before someone declared lunch. France sat and organized his files, glancing up at passing nations every now and again. He specified on Scotland, who'd had a dreamy smile upon his lips from Russia's speaking. He didn't seem to even notice that it was lunch; he just swished the whiskey that remained in his glass. France stood, taking a glance at America, who was striding out of the room with one arm around Canada and the other around England, before he walked over to Scotland, tapping him on the shoulder. "Bonjour, Ecosse," He greeted, smiling. "Lost in thoughts?"
"Nessie..." he mumbled quietly before he snapped out of his dream and tilted his head to look up at France.
"Oh...did everyone already die of boredom?" Scotland asked, raising an eyebrow. He stared down at what was left of his whisky and quickly downed it so that it wouldn't go to waste. "So why aren't you out on a molesting hunt?".
Frace chuckled, taking a seat beside the redhead. "Non, Mon ami, It is lunch. And Russia wasn't as boring as you might imagine. As for your other question, I feel like being a good boy today." He shrugged as he said this, resting an elbow on the table and a chin in his hand. "So what was on your mind the whole time...?"
"...Nothing, other than I need to fix my roof, it's been raining too much and I'm gettin' soaked..." Scotland said, putting down his glass. He wouldn't admit to thinking about his mythical friends, God knows how much England got ridiculed for it, he was not about to have his manly image ruined just because no one else could see Nessie. Besides, he wasn't lying, his broken roof was troubling him recently.
France gave him a slight smile. "I see." He replied. "Ah! And while I'm here, might I say; brilliant work of Angleterre earlier. Someone needed to shut him up." He added a special emphasis on 'someone' and rolled his eyes. "I nearly died of boredom."
"It doesn't take much to rile Baby Brittney~" he chuckled with a little smirk on his face. It was too easy that it wasn't much of a challenge but it was worth it to see that red face and angry pout. To think he was once married to the stupid Englishman. France chuckled at the nickname. "I believe that, Mon Ami," He replied, thinking back to the countless times that his mere presence in a room would rile the green-eyed blonde. "I believe that." He gave a slight sigh, standing with a smile. "Anyhow, Ecosse, shall we go to lunch?"
"I guess I'm hungry...there better be a decent fish and chip shop somewhere...cause if it isn't deep fried I'll be raging..." Scotland laughed, stretching a little as he stood and forgetting all about his empty whisky glass. "No offence, but it's a well lot better than the stuff you make." France waved a dismissive hand. "None taken, Mon Ami. I've heard much worse from Angleterre and Amerique." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "As for your preference of lunch, I do believe the very same Angleterre mentioned something about a shop nearby. Plus, he's off with Amerique and Canada, so we won't run into him." He smiled. "That is our lunchtime destination, then, non?"
"It's not a date though" he reminded the French nation, tugging his tartan scarf tighter around his neck to keep him warm. People would say he wasn't a very romantic nation, but he could if he wanted to. Just spout a bit of Rabbie Burns poetry and most women would fall for his feet. As long as it wasn't the poem about the haggis, that just seemed to be a turn off. Though he wasn't that fond of women anyway. He had never been close to his mother, or his Irish Republican sister so he preferred the company of men.
France, of course, smiled, pulling his other second-skin type black glove on an elegant hand. "But of course not, Ecosse." He assured. "Not a date at all." With that, he pushed open the heavy wooden door of the conference centre, striding down the granite stairs with Scotland a step or two behind him.
Scotland watched the frenchman warily as he walked next to him with a small pout. He wasn't sure what to think of the man he had shared that one alliance with a long time ago. Had he really changed since then? Not once had he tried to lift his kilt up or comment on how 'true Scotsmen don't wear underwear' (which he certainly followed). He shrugged at the thought - France was France, commitment was a rarity.
France reached behind his head, pulling his shoulder-length locks into a short ponytail. He turned to Scotland with a small smile. "You're oddly quiet, Ecosse. Something wrong?". S otland turned to the Frenchman. "Ahh nothin' mate just...thinking bout the past and all, being old..." said Scotland, forcing a small grin on his face to reassure the Frenchman
France gave a small pout, stopping mid step to face the Scotsman. He knew what he said wasn't a lie; but he knew it wasn't the whole truth, either. He'd known Scotland too long to fall for that. "Ecosse," He began lightly. "I know you better than that. Remember we did have an alliance long ago~!" He gave a playful smile, wagging a delicate finger in the Scotman's face. "Really, what's on your mind?" His smile turned too one of sincerity as he waited for the response.
Scotland glanced off to the side so that he wouldn't have to see the man's gaze. This was just embarrassing now. "It's nothin' honestly..." he muttered. "Just ye know, things aint been goin' my way lately...I'm gettin' old and England aint been any help..." How could he admit that he questioned his existence? Scotland was sure that when he signed that stupid union treaty that he would disappear under England's rule yet he was still there. Sure, he had his own government but in the end it was still England who was in charge. He missed the times when he was actually a force to be feared.
France gazed at him sceptically. He didn't believe him, no; not for a second. Scotland, despite common misconception, was actually a very private person. Even tough that was true... to be honest, it kind of hurt that, despite their past alliance, Scotland felt the need to be secretive with him. "Okay, then... If you say so, Ecosse." He continued walking with a brisk pace, hoping that the other didn't see the beginnings of a rather dejected pout on his lips. It was unbecoming and really didn't compliment his other facial features. "The shop should be right around this corner."
Scotland sighed in relief that France hadn't pushed the matter any further. He wasn't a sissy, definitely not, and he wasn't going to let anyone else see him that way. The only people he had been open to was his own children, and even then that was in the seclusion of his home. Children didn't judge you on your past history either. "Good, cause I'm starvin'" said Scotland, quickening his pace at the thought of some food
France pushed open the doors of 'Chipman's Fish and Chips', removing his jacket as Scotland walked in behind him. He looked around. Many of the booths and tables were filled; Lunchtime rush, he guessed. "Good day, gentleman," The hostess greeted, flashing her pearly whites. "Party of two?" France nodded, watching her take two menus out. "Great! Follow me," She led them to a back window booth, near a corner that contained what looked like an entire cheerleading squad of girls, and placed the menus down. France noticed with a slight amusement the Union Jack hung on the wall above the table. "Your waiter will be with you shortly." France sat down closet to the girls, watching Scotland remove his scarf and sit across from him. He took a menu. After a few minutes of an awkward silence; "So," France began, laying his menu down with a smile. "What are you having?"
"Ehh...a pizza crunch..." he murmured quietly looking down at the menu. 'This is not a date, this is totally not a date' he insisted to himself but with the way France looked, this was probably the image they were giving off. Though, you would have to be very poor to be on a first date in a fish and chip shop. "A can of Irn Bru...and a deep friend chocolate bar." Totally unhealthy but heh, he was Bloody Scotland, he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted.
France cocked his head to the side in confusion at the odd look in Scotland's face. He dismissed it as Scotland being Scotland as the waiter walked up; a middle-aged man with greying brunette hair and sharp blue eyes. He smiled. "Good day, gentlemen," He greeted with a lovely deep voice. "My name's Peyton and I'll be your waiter this afternoon. So, what'll it be for you?" France glanced back at the menu. "Hmm, give me a moment... I seemed to have lost it..." He looked for a moment. "Ah! Here it is; the Fried Fisherman's platter." "And to drink?" "A bottle of red wine, please." He replied, spying the beverage on the back of the menue. "And for this Gentleman..." He quickly ordered for Scotland before he could protest, and so he wouldn't have to repeat himself. Peyton nodded. "Right, then! I'll be right back with your drinks..." He put his notepad in the small apron around his waist and smiled, striding away. France gazed over at Scotland and smiled softly. "I hope that didn't emberass you...?"
"Takes a lot to embarass me..." he muttered with a small smile and leaned back in his seat. It was probably best that France ordered for him. His accent was quite thick and mostly people didn't understand what he had said. This to no end annoyed him, like when English people didn't accept his money. That really bugged him. "I'm too hungry to give a toss..."
France smiled. "That's good." He replied. A few minutes later, Peyton returned with their drinks, leaving a nice cold bottle of rich red wine on the table with two glasses, 'just in case'. As he poured some into his glass, he decided to make conversation. "We rarely ever se each other like this..." A sigh as he took his glass gingerly into his hand. "So, Ecosse, what have you been up to as of late?"
"Kicking England's backside..." said Scotland, shaking his head with a frown. "Little imperialistic twat thinks he can change the student fees for my universities and colleges...then he starts taking blasts at my government..." He picked up his glass but in his small spate of anger, a visible crack could be heard and seen in the glass. "Things haven't been very fair for me...then I see them promoting that stupid Valentine's Day and think, what the hell is the point?" There. He said it. He let it out. Scotland felt a weight lift from his shoulders slightly.
France nodded as the other spoke, then felt his ears literally perk when he heard 'Valentines Day'. "Ah, so you don't like Saint Valentin?" He asked with and amused expression. "Ah, then something tells my you would get along quite well with La Prusse. He doesn't care for it much either. He calls it 'Singles Awareness Day'." He took a sip of his wine as he gazed at the broken glass Scotland held. "Might I ask... just why you dislike it, Mon Ami?"
"I believe my 'divorce' from the little brat England fell on that day, and then my life went slowly down hill from there..." growled Scotland a bit bitterly. "I lost my independence, I got invaded by all sorts of immigrant foreigners that just wanted to steal my jobs then leave me broke at the beginning of war..." He paused for a moment to take a sip of his drink. "So yea...I dislike it."
France nodded. "That's certainly a lot to be bitter about..." He murmured. "I can understand that dislike..." He took a sip of his wine, then swished the red liquid in the glass. He sighed. "But surely it can't be all bad? A handsome man like yourself has a lovely lady to spend the day with, non...?" As soon as the word left his mouth and an odd expression crossed Scotland's face, he instantly regretted ever parting his lips to speak.
"Lady...lady...". Scotland couldn't help but laugh if not a little darkly at the mere idea. "I have not loved a lady since...1580" said Scotland with a deep frown. "That was the first and last person I could ever love...and who took her away? England, it's always bloody England...". He had to stop himself, trying to regain some control over his thoughts. He was being way too open about this. It was the drink, he blamed the drink...and England, because he could.
France didn't smile. Didn't speak a word. Didn't even look at Scotland. He just stared at the table until Peyton returned with their meals. Even then he merely muttered a 'Merci' and stared at his food with a guilty expression. He glanced at the redhead across from him once, a 'desole' hanging on his lips, threatening to fall before he looked back at the scallops on his plate. He poked them with a fork, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Why was he such and idiot?
Scotland silently ate his slice of deep fried pizza, keeping his gaze down so that he didn't have to look at France. He felt guilty now after that little out burst...he would make sure not to return to the meeting afterwards. He would go straight back to his hotel room and drink in peace, where no one would care to bother him. France finally ate; albeit quickly, and finished his wine. Slowly, he looked up at Scotland, a soft expression on his face. He had to apologize...Well, better late than never...
"Ecosse," He began softly, leaning forward a bit. "I... I'm sorry... for bringing it up. I had no idea..." He trailed off, remembering exactly what Scotland said. "I'm... I'm just sorry. Really." He sighed lightly, making a move to stand, retrieving his jacket and placing down some money. "I'll see you back at the conference centre." He shrugged his jacket on and turned to leave. "And if you need to talk to anyone..." He whispered, as if practice to himself; barely loud enough for anyone to hear. He shook his head before starting to slowly walk away.
Scotland stared at where the man had left for a moment longer before banging his head on the table with an irritated groan. Why did everything in his life have to screw up for him? He sighed and rubbed his now sore head and stood up, biting his bottom lip as he left the fish and chip shop. He would just buy some cheap bottles of whisky and pretty similar to his youngest brother, drown his sorrows on his own. It was hardly going to help him long term but right now it seemed to be the perfect solution to the hole in his chest.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
France kept glancing eagerly at the doors of the conference room, waiting and waiting for Scotland's form to appear. It'd been an hour or more since he'd left the shop; he wasn't really keeping track of time. He felt nauseous; though whether it was from the shop's food or his worry for Ecosse, he wasn't sure... As everyone became engrossed in the current conversation, he stood, taking his jacket and gloves, and scurrying out of the room. He caught a taxi to the hotel and walke inside. "Pardon moi, miss," He began to the red-haired desk clerk. She looked up, brown eyes bored and tired. "Yes? Checking in, sir?" She asked in a bored monotone. "Non; I was just wondering if a man's come in. He's tall, bright red hair, about this tall wearing a tartan kilt?" She quirked an eyebrow.
"Oh, Him," She recalled. "Yeah, he wandered in about fifty minutes ago with a couple a' bottles of whiskey in each hand. Took the elevator to the sixth... no, seventh; the seventh floor. Grant said he went into 7B." He nodded. "Merci." He quickly took the elevator to the seventh floor, scurrying to 7B. He stood there, hearing a familiar voice cursing out everything and everyone he could think of; such as England. France lifted a shaky and to the door, taking a deep breath befroe knocking slowly. "Oh Ecosse..." He whispered to himself. "Please open the door..."
"Ah didnae order room service..." mumbled Scotland, lying on his bed with a massive head ache and still with a bottle in his hand. He didn't bother to lock the door though he couldn't exactly get up. "Ohh~ Mah love is like...Ahh red red rose~!" sang Scotland, licking his lips of the husky he so madly craved. France quirked an eyebrow at the obviously drunken voice of Scotland. He looked down at the knob, gingerly placing his hand on it and testing to see if it would turn...He pushed the door open to see Scotland's jacket, scarf and shoes strewn across the floor. He slowly stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "... Er... Ecosse..?"
"Ahh~! Francy-Boi~!" laughed Scotland as he tried to sit up, giggling almost madly. He took another swig from the bottle, licking his lips. "Don' ye want a drink~? Ahh... Wait I'm nearly done...". Scotland whined at his lack of alcohol and looked back at France. "...When did ye get here?"
"Just a moment ago..." France replied, taking a few steps forward. "I was.. worried when you didn't come back to the conference..." He admitted. "So I came to find you..."
"I was bored~!" whined Scotland with a pout. "They make fun of mah accent and ignore me and... I don't like 'em". He tossed away his bottle and didn't listen to the smash it made in the pile of broken glass. "Uhh... I ran out of bottles... Can ye get me another?"
France just stared for a moment, then sat on the bed. "Non. Seems to me like you've had enough... I don't care how much you whine tonight; you'll be whining even more in the morning because of your hangover..." He sighed. "And for the record; I know quite a few nations that understand you perfectly and always acknowledge you. In fact, those like Canada like you very much." Okay; not his best argument. But what was he supposed to say, exactly? Angleterre just had a temper hen he got drunk; Scotland apparently had a happy disposition. That wasn't exactly what he was used to.
Scotland frowned and managed to sit up, wrapping his arms around France's neck with a lop sided grin. "Aww come on... Just one bottle? I can make it worth yer while..." he purred, licking his lips through half lidded eyes. One of the bad sides of being drunk that Scotland refused to acknowledge was that he was way too open like this. That seemed to include such needs as desire as well and right now the alcohol was urging him. Urging him to make some kind of move on the Frenchman.
Even France had the decency to blush at this. He placed his hands on Scotland's chest too push him off, but to no avai. "N-non, Ecosse..." He stuttered. "No more alcohol... Look what it's making you do now!" He pressed a bit harder on Scotland's chest. There was a bit of a darker glint in the Scot's eyes before he stumbled and pushed France down against the bed. "Am I not good enough?" Scotland growled with a frown. "I am ne'er good enough for anyone nowadays... Is that it Francis~?". He wasn't sure what was wrong with him but he felt paranoid. No one cared, France lied, just like everyone else. Yes, that was it, that was why he wouldn't get him another bottle.
"N-non!" France cried, feeling guilty enough already. "It's just..." His voice got a bit quieter. "Y-you're drunk..." The mere scent of the alcohol on the Scot's breath was making him feel light-headed. His hands felt a bit shakier; though whether it was from the scent of whiskey or the jitters from such close proximity with the striking Scotsman. "Aye... I know I am... But not drunk enough..." he mumbled, the angry flare in his eyes simmering away to nothing. "Wanna get so drunk... That I dinnae feel a thing..."
His head hurt, he rested it on the Frenchman's shoulder, trying to get his thoughts together but it was like hitting a brick wall. It was just painful and he wanted it to stop. "Mah love is like... Ahh red red rose..." Scotland muttered more to himself, burying his face in France's shoulder so he wouldn't have to look at him. France smiled lightly, resting a soft hand on the back of Scotland's head and the other on his shoulder. "... That's newly sprung in june..." He sang softly back, as not to agitate his headache.
"Ye were annoyin'... Tryin' tae look up my kilt.." said Scotland. "I could ne'er fall in love with a lassie... Cause I fell in love with a laddie...". He still didn't move, mainly because his body was still unreliable. France frowned in confusion. Usually in matters of the heart, he was astute. But this time... "What do you mean, Ecosse...?" He asked in a quiet voice, hugging the redhead gently. "Idiot..." he mumbled. "That alliance meant more to me... Than just annoyin' England...ye meant more than that." Scotland could feel his eyes grow heavy as his mind urgered him to sleep. It seemed like a good idea but he didn't want to sleep just yet.
France stared at the pale yellow ceiling, understanding seeping into his mind as tears slowly pricked at his eyes. "... Oh Ecosse..." He hugged Scotland closer. "Ecosse... Scotland..." His English name felt odd rolling off his tongue; He'd only ever called him 'Ecosse'. A small tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Scotland's. "Yer gonna get mah head wet..." Scotland muttered, thinking it was weird to hear his English name spoken from the Frenchman's mouth. "Laugh all ye like..."
"Why would I laugh, Ecosse?" He loosened his grip on Scotland, shifting away a bit to look in his eyes, smiling through his tears, reaching up to wipe his eyes. "Cause... Cause yer French..." he mumbled as his excuse, his face slightly red from the yelling to the crying. Now he didn't want to fall asleep, not with the Frenchman now responding to him. France's smile broadened at this, reaching up to gently brush Scotland's cheek with his fingertips. "Oh, Ecosse..." He whispered, reaching forward to touch noses with the redhead. "I could never laugh at you... only with you." Perhaps that was a bit cliche, but it was true. He could, and would, never laugh at Scotland like he could England or America.
Scotland stared back at him with a small pout. He didn't know why he did what he did, maybe because he was drunk or lonely or a mixture of the two but he still did it. He leaned forward and kissed the French nation on the lips, not as much force as he had pushed him with though. France gasped slightly, eyes widening before sliding shut. He kissed back gently, that butterflies feeling making its way into his stomach. He hummed lightly in happiness. Scotland clung tightly to the Frenchman as he kissed him, refusing to let go of him. Perhaps this was just a drunken dream, but even he wasn't able to dream this up. Besides, if it was a dream then why did France's lips feel so soft, or why could he smell some sickly French perfume that could only smell good on said French nation?France smiled into the kiss, shifting a bit to get closer to the Scot; as if possible. He latched his fingers gently in the soft red locks, resisting the urge to sigh in bliss.
Something in the back of his mind reminded Scotland that he still needed to breath, though he still reluctantly parted from France with a red tint on his cheeks, and not just from his alcohol intake. He rested his head on the man's chest, biting his bottom lip almost nervously. He didn't bite it for long though as his craze of drinking caught up with him and he was fast asleep in the man's arms, snoring quietly. France stared down at the redhead lovingly, pulling a blanket over him (or, should he say, them) and stroking his cheek lightly. He smiled and closed his eyes, leaning his head on a pillow and letting Scotland's soft snore lull him to sleep.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Scotland managed to awaken from his dreams of a lovely haggis dinner and whisky by the fireplace, yawning quietly. He wasn't sure why his pillow was moving, until he looked down to see his pillow was dress in some fancy shirt and was breathing. His eyes widened and he glanced up to see he was indeed lying on France's chest with a blanket around them. His mind tried to think back to last night but it was really a blur.
'Did I have sex with him?' he wondered but saw they were both full clothed so that surely wasn't the case. Still... Close up and sleeping the Frenchman look almost cute. Almost. France merely shifted a bit, remaining asleep, his lips forming a cute pout. Scotland couldn't help but smile a little at the look on France's face. He carefully reached up and brides some of the blonde locks from the man's face. He had a massive hangover but he didn't care, he woke up and now had a reason to smile, staring him in the face. He tried to move out of the man's arms so he could go shower. France stirred the slightest bit, giving a soft, tired groan and muttering something about 'annoying Prusse' with a light frown before falling back to sleep.
Scotland sighed as he stood back up, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the bathroom. He stepped under the shower and turned on the hot water, smiling at the feel of it on his skin. He stretched slightly as he began to wash, though he couldn't help but sing his happiness in a tune of 'Flower of Scotland'. France blinked his eyes opened slowly, yawning. "Eh? Ecosse?" He murmured in confusion, sitting up to find the bed oddly Scotland-less. He then heard rushing water mixed with what France recognized as Scotland's voice. He smiled; he sounded so... happy! Suddenly, he thought back to the night before, a delicate finger touching his lips. He remembered how they felt against Scotland's; how happy he'd felt in that moment... it made him smile even wider and sigh dreamily.
Scotland turned the water off as he grabbed a towel, tying it around his waist. He grabbed hold of another one so that he could towel dry his red hair. He looked back at his reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but grin slightly. The shower had helped with his hangover slightly and he felt a million times better. Scotland didn't have a hairbrush though now looking at his unruly spikes of red hair now he felt a little self conscious. He remembered back when his hair was so long he could make it a long braided ponytail. Well it wasn't long enough for a pony tail now, but... Shrugging his shoulders, he settled for just braiding a few strands. Some would ridicule it for being girly but back in his prime all the Scots men braided. He opened the door and poked his head out, smiling a little at France. "Err...hey there..." he said. "Did I wake you?"
France looked up from the ever-so-fascinating manila sheets to gaze at the Scotsman. He smiled. "Non, not at all, Ecosse."
"Don't lie, yer a terrible liar..." he chuckled as he walked back into the bedroom, hand on his hip. "Ye better hop in the shower...wouldn't want yer lovely hair to get all greasy, would I?" Really it was just an excuse for him to get dressed without the frenchman oggling his naked body...though right now the towel on his waist left nothing to the imagination. France ran a finger through his ponytail. "I would, but I don't have a change of clothes." He stated, almost-too-innocently, blue eyes looking back into Scotland's. "... If this is just about you changing, I can wait outside the door." If it were truly any other man, France's eyes would have been locked just below the waist. But Scotland wasn't 'any other man'. He was Scotland; and France respected him far too much to oggle him like some object.
"And what exactly would someone walkin' outside my door be thinkin' then if they saw ye standing oot there?" Scotland said, frowning slightly. "Ne'er mind...I dinnae care..." he insisted, trying to act like he didn't care if the Frenchman saw him naked. He walked over to his suitcase and started searching through it for his favourite kilt and white shirt, keeping a firm hold on the towel so that it wouldn't fall down. France smiled slightly, raising his hands in defeat. "Fine, fine, Ecosse, you win. I'll go take a shower." He stood up, heading to the bathroom. He closed the door and removed his clothing, tugging his hair from the band before stepping into the shower and turning on the water. The hot liquid felt refreshing on his cool skin. He hummed contently, washing his soft skin slowly. It really felt good to get clean.
Scotland smirked slightly as he dressed himself, happily tying his tartan ribbon around his shirt collar. He snuck into the bathroom and 'borrowed' France's room key before wandering to the Frenchman's room. He searched through the man's clothes before he managed to pick something he presumed the french nation would put together and brought it back to his room. Scotland left the folded clothes on the bathroom counter before going back to his bed. About ten minutes later, France stepped out of the shower, drying himself off and scuffing his hair with a towel. He looked at the counter and paused. A white button up shirt, a pair of black dress pants with matching belt, a pair of black socks and shoes, and, of course, a pair of underwear. Scotland must've stolen his key and retrived these from his room... He smiled fondly as he finished drying off. When he was done, he got dressed; Scotland had a simple, but tasteful fashion sense.
France chuckled as he envisioned some black suspenders and a matching fedora to complete an old-fashioned jazz look. But he looked fine in this. He ran his fingers through his hair before reaching a comb from the pocket of the jacket he'd worn the day before. He ran it through his hair, put the golden locks up in a ponytail and smiled, stepping out of the room. By now Scotland had cleaned up the broken glass in his room and had mostly rid it of the stench of alcohol. He didn't care what others would say of his people - he liked a clean room. He glanced over at France when he came back into the room and glanced off to admire the wallpaper... Which looks cheap and tacky in his own opinion. "I don't think I'll bother showing up today..." he said. "Bloody England will just yell about me missing the second half yesterday... I'd prefer not to get ear ache..."
France leaned against the door jam of the bathroom, pouting. "Well, I suppose I can understand that." He said simply, plucking at the ends of his hair. "Angleterre is rather plucky about the matters of the world. But I don't think I'll arrive, either." He gathered his clothing from the bathroom and smiled at Scotland. "I'm just going to go back to my room and relax... or perhaps the cafe downtown?" He gazed at the ceiling in thought, then shrugged. "I'll decide eventually." He strode to the door, flashing a smile at Scotland. "Aurevoir, Ecosse~!" He gave a little wave before opening the door and beginning to step out. He paused mid step and looked over his shoulder, blowing a kiss.
Scotland shook his head at the childish notion but pretended to catch the kiss nonetheless. Cafe down town? France had never lived! If that was a sorry attempt at a date then the French nation's power of love was lacking. Scotland tilted his head in thought. No, he wanted some excitement today... Then the idea came to him, and it was so perfect! He grinned to himself as he hastily scribbled down his message on a piece of paper, poking his head out the room. He stopped one of the cleaners and told them to leave the note at France's room. Yes, tonight would be fun! Now all he had to do was get changed into some proper night wear... Clothes that would put England's punk era to shame~!
France had decided just to relax at his room, retrieving 'The Passionate Ghost' from his bookshelf and lounging on the bed. He'd barely gotten three pages in before a knock came to his door. He stood and strode over, opening the door to reveal one of the cleaners in the crisp blue uniform. "Pardon, sir," He greeted. "But I was asked to deliver this note." France took the piece of paper. "Merci." He replied, smiling and closing the door as the boy, who couldn't have ben more than seventeen, walked away. He slowly unfolded the paper, recognising Scotland's rushed handwriting. He read the message and smiled, putting his book away and slipped his shoes on.
If that's what he wanted, he'd get it.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Later that night Scotland was waiting outside of one of the most popular night clubs, waiting to see if the Frenchman would show up. He wondered if this sort of venue interested him, but assured himself he wouldn't be too disappointed if France decided not to show. To say he looked completely different was an understatement. He really was proud of himself. England had a punk stage so did he but obviously he pulled it off better. He had dressed himself in black skinny jeans with combat boots, happy showing off his figure. His shirt was ripped and dark blue, with his country's cross just like his flag on the front. He had his lip ring on as well for added effect and tongue piercing. He certainly felt young anyway.
France followed the directions Scotland had written on the note. They were a bit messy and made France question if he was in te right area of town, but if the loud music was any indication, he was in the right place. His skinny jeans were torn and had chains on the right pocket. He wore black stud earrings and a lip ring (he'd had the holes for a while; makeup was a great coverup) along with a black tank top with a tear graphic, revealing a grunge French flag. He tugged at his choker, shuffling the feet that were covered in a pair of heavy combat boots. THe belt around his slender waist was a black-and-neon-green checkerboard pattern that he rather liked. He felt out of place, however, among some of the true punk veterans that were leaving the club. out of them, he spied Scotland, leaning against the wall and scanning the crowd.
He walked over a bit self consciously, pausing when Scotland's eyes fell on him. Scotland almost felt his heart stop when he saw France. He didn't know the man had it in him but he definitely pulled the look off well. He couldn't help but look the man up and down to admire his choice of attire. Scotland managed to regain his compare and strolled up to the man, grinning. "Well well, don't you scrub up?" he chuckled, leaning forward to okay with the French nation's choker with a smirk. "I didn't imagine this as your kind of scene... But it's a good thing you came after all~! it wouldn't have been any fun on my own."
France grinned back. "Well, I didn't want you to get bored or worse; have fun without moi~!" He replied, touching the small chain on his choker with a wink on 'Moi~!'. He rested his hands on his hips and looked Scotland over. "I must say, you look perfectly delicious as well~". Scotland laughed a little and tugged a bit on the choker. "Course I am~" he said, smirking. "Let's get in, I'm freezing out here and I'm gasping for a drink." He grabbed France's hand and tugged him inside the building, immediately met with loud music and lots of people drinking and dancing. This was exactly what he needed, a loud place were no one knew him where he could let loose and have fun.
And if France enjoyed his company then all the better.
France was used to the loud music; he was close to Prussia where it was all metal, all the time. It didn't bother him very much at all; especially considering who he was with. Even if the music was too unbearable, he'd have stayed just to watch Scotland cut loose in that outfit... Scotland couldn't help but laugh as he tugged France towards the bar, flashing a grin at the batman.
"Two vodka shots~!" he said, handing over his money and happily taking the small glasses. "Good thing Russia isn't here..."
He handed a glass to France and quickly downed his, licking his lips at the burning taste. It would never be as good as his whisky but it would make a good substitute for this night out. France drank his in turn, licking a few remaining droplets of the liquid from his lips. It wasn't quite as tasteful as wine, but it was good enough. He gazed at Scotland happily, thankful that he'd decided to show tonight and not be a shut in. Scotland chuckled a little and put his glass down. "I feel like a dance!" he yelled, having to yell over the loud music. He beckoned for France to follow him to the dance floor, just in time too because the next song played was some kind of cover remix of 'Flower of Scotland'. He couldn't help but beam with pride, and took a moment to find some kind if rhythm to dance tithe song but soon enough he did, swaying his hips and winking at France suggestively. The frenchman wasn't the only one who could pull off the flirting mode.
France just grinned back playfully and got in some rather close proximity with the other, swaying his hips in time to the music. Scotland was very enticing like this; just acting like himself without a care in the world. France like...
He couldn't have been drunk after one shot, surely? Though there was this exciting buzz going through him as he danced with France and he was loving every minute if it but it wasn't close enough. Scotland wrapped his arms around France's neck and pulled him even closer, singing the song's words in his ear but not in English, in his own Gaelic. Ahh it was so much fun to freely speak his native language without England complaining that the language was dead now and still speaking it was a waste of time. No one else would hear him anyway, so there was no problem with it.
France much preferred the song in Scotland's voice and language than the english singer on the speakers. He also much preferred this distance from the other to the previous one. Scotland's breath teased against his ear as he sang, sending a slight shiver up his spine. He pressed himself even closer to Scotland happily. Scotland couldn't help but nuzzle the French nation's neck once he was finished with his singing, as the song changed to some Swedish singer he didn't understand. The beat was very good to dance to though, especially with being so very close to someone else while doing said dance. He smirked slightly and bit gently at the man's skin if not teasingly to see how exactly he would react to it.
France groaned lightly, tilting his head to the side when Scotland bit his skin lightly right below his choker. He was coming close to a sweet spot, and France loved it. His hips moved faster to the beat. Scotland laughed quietly and moved his hands slowly down France's sides, resting at his hips. No one could tell what they were doing anyway, either too busy dancing or too drunk to care. He moved to bite at his neck again, happily nipping at that pleasure spot unknowingly. Even over the music, close up he could hear every noise the man made and it excited him. France bit his lip, letting out a whimper in Scotland's ear. He placed his hands over the Scot's as he nipped at the spot on his neck that made him wriggle his hips harder against the redhead.
"E-Ecosse..." He breathed. "Francis..." he muttered into his ear, kissing softly at the available skin on his neck. Did France have to move that way? His skinny jeans were feeling tighter than the second and it was a struggle to keep under control over the encouraging noises in French. It was getting so much harder to resist temptation ( maybe 'harder' wasn't the best choice of words). France's eyes slipped closed as his neck was all but ravished. "Ah..." He whispered, exposing his neck farther to the Scot. "Mon Dieu, Ecosse..." His hands slowly travelled up Scotland's arms and wrapped around his neck to hold that wonderful lips close to his neck. His pants felt much tighter than before... That would certainly be a problem...
Scotland barely managed to pull away from the inviting neck offered to him in favour of something better. he pressed his lips over France's, reaching a hand up to play with golden locks that had escaped his hair band. He was thinking a change in location was in order though but where exactly? No way was he dragging France into the toilets, they both had more class than that surely. Scotland remembered the few hairpins he clasped in his hair to keep it perfect. If there was some kind of VIP suite then maybe with a pick of a lock it could be filled with some better Very Important People.
France quickly deepened the kiss, tongue requesting an entrance that Scotland was glad to grant. He explored every inch of the other's mouth, hands running down the Scot's chest slowly, feeling toned muscles through the t-shirt. Scotland barely managed to tug France away from the dancing crowd and pull his lips away from those sweet lips. He turned to find the VIP suite empty and perfect. He pulled France into the room and locked it behind them, practically pouncing on the blonde once the door was sorted. France gave a small yelp as Scotland pressed him against the wall of the suite, unlatching his choker and practically attacking his neck. The blonde smiled, tipping his head back and releasing little mewls of excitement and pleasure mixed with French words of encouragement.
Scotland ran his hands up and down France's shirt as his mouth was busy with the matter of ravishing the French man's neck. He was falling in love with every bit of ye Frenchman, rocking his hips ever so slightly against him to the thumping music that tried to get into the room and follow them. France gasped lightly at the wandering hands and persistent lips and rocking hips, an excited tingle racing down his spine at the fact that these sensations weren't coming from some random guy he'd met while partying; no, this was Scotland. It was Scotland that was taking full advantage of that sweet spot on his neck, Scotland that was teasing him, Scotland that was pressed against him right now. He urged those tender lips away from his neck somehow (Really, he wasn't even sure how he did it), Leaning forward and capturing them in a fierce kiss, tugging at the hem of the t-shirt lightly.
His own personal way of saying 'Off'. Scotland made some sort of growling noise after being pulled away from the delicious skin but gladly kissed France back when he met his lips. He didn't want this too easy after all and France would definitely be worth it in the end of the night. France teased his fingertips under Scotland's shirt, letting them wander across muscles and slightly raised scars. He knew where most of them came from, but some were newer. But as Scotland began exploring his mouth, any question about them disappeared. He traced one with a gentle fingertip, smiling softly into the kiss and pressing with a bit more force against the redhead.
Scotland vaguely recalled himself moaning under France's light touch, old Edinburgh in his chest pumping away in excitement and to the rhythm of the music outside. He somehow managed to pull back from kissing the man senseless to flash him a small smirk. "Someone is excited~" he sang teasingly with a light bump of his hips. France gave a slight groan at the loss of those amazing lips, but then replied with a smirk of his own; "That's the pot calling the kettle black, Mon Ami~!"
"Who's the one getting turned on from a few love bites~?" he snickered, twirling some of the other man's blonde locks round his fingers, tilting his head to the side. France chuckled, fingers finding a longer scar and tracing it teasingly. "Only when it's you giving them, Ecosse~". Scotland shivered a little and kissed France's cheek. "Ye would say that, ye bloody pervert..." Scotland purred, kissing along down to his neck. "Mmmm," France hummed. "Call me a pervert all you want, but I stand by what I said~" He gasped as Scotland's tongue flicked out over that damn sweet spot, wriggling his hips a bit. Somehow it felt better with Scotland than any previous fling...
Scotland laughed quietly and nuzzled the man's neck softly, humming in content. "And still stand by what I said...when I said that alliance meant much more than rubbin' it in England's face...". France smiled softly, drawing little imaginary designs on Scotland's chest with his fingertips. "I know... Scotland." He tried his English name experimentally again, just to see what he would get out of a slightly less drunk Scotland. Scotland stared at France for a moment, noticing that France had said his name in English instead of French. "...Say it again" he whispered, watching the man carefully.
France stared back, pausing his fingers. "Scotland..." He repeated Scotland took a deep breath, almost shaking just from the way the Frenchman said his name. Even just his voice..."An toir thu dhomh pòg?" he asked softly in his own native language. "...Tha gaol agam ort."
France wracked his brain for a moment, trying to remember the bit of his language that Scotland had taught him long ago. When he finally pieced together what the redhead had said, he smiled, replying in his own language; "Bien sur, Je t'aime, trop" and kissing the Scotsman straight on the lips. Scotland blushed slightly and pulled France closer to him, enjoying the feel of the Frenchman's lips on his own. Maybe this is what he had been missing all that time, someone to open up to, to trust and perhaps even to love. France wrapped his arms around Scotland's neck, pushing himself the slighted bit closer to the Scot. He didn't know why but every time Scotland kissed him, suddenly he felt warmer everywhere, and Scotland just wasn't quite close enough...
Scotland licked the man's lips hungrily, though his blue eyes glanced behind them to see a clock. It was getting really late now, had they really been in the room for so long? The time just seemed to fly by. "We better get goin' before they end up lockin' us in here...and I don't wanna phone England tae pick us up..." he chuckled with another quick kiss. France pouted sadly, but nodded nonetheless. "Back to the hotel then?" He asked simply, pecking Scotland on the end of his nose before retrieving his choker from where the redhead had dropped it to the ground earlier. Scotland laughed quietly at France's disappointment and pulled him along, out the door and out the club. He hailed down a taxi for them to take them back to the hotel.
France smiled as they sat in the back of the Taxi, Scotland's arm around his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. He reached up, taking Scotland's hand in his and massaging the palm with his thumb. He leaned his head on the redhead's shoulder, closing his eyes in comfort as he waited for them to arrive at the hotel. Scotland smiled as he cuddled with France in the back if the taxi. He felt so warm, feeling delighted that he had the French nation with him, cuddled so close and lovingly. He kissed the top of the man's head and ran a hand through his wavy locks. France smiled, cuddling closer to the redhead. He felt so relaxed and comfortable and safe... He sighed dreamily. "Ecosse?
Scotland tilted his head to look at France. "Hm? What is it Francis?" he whispered, not sure why he was whispering but felt like he needed to. The blonde looked up at him, still smiling. "... I had fun tonight." He murmured, reaching up to peck his cheek. "More fun than I expected to, actually." He fingered the little chain on his choker idly. "Thank you."
"I had a great time too ye big pervert~" chuckled Scotland, kissing his cheek softly. "Best night I've had in a long time you know... For all the right reasons."
It didn't take much longer for the taxi to arrive back at the hotel. They paid and got out, walking inside. The desk clerk; the same girl as before, glance up at them. Her eyes widened, dropping her pen and her jaw at the same time. It wasn't just two hot guys cuddling; it was two hot guys in some lovely outfits cuddling. She had the best job EVER. France gave her a smile and watched her practically melt behind the counter before tugging Scotland into the elevator and setting it to the seventh floor. Even from her reaction Scotland couldn't help by blush. He fixed that though, kissing France as soon as the elevator doors shut. Kissing in a lift seemed pretty cliché but then again, so had the whole date thing. France was pleasantly surprised when Scotland's lips met his, still a bit amused at the Desk Clerk's reaction. He kept an eye on the elevator buttons, pulling away from the redhead reluctantly when the number six lit up, settling for just cuddling against the other, humming contently.
Scotland grinned a little and when the doors opened he walked out with France on his arm. It took a couple of attempts to try and open his hotel door but once he was in he collapse onto his bed and hugged one if his pillows close to his chest. "What a fun night~" he purred. France smiled at him, silently agreeing as he pulled his hair from its band. It fell loosely around his shoulders before he unlatched his choker and took it off. Scotland watched France as he did so, before flashing a smile at him. He leaned over ad grabbed his hand, pulling him down into the bed. He wrapped his arms around the man's waist and gently nuzzled his neck, smile still on his face. France smiled brightly, not even bothering to act surprised when Scotland had pulled him down. His arms wrapped loosely around the redhead's neck.
A couple of minutes passed like that; just laying there. France looked at him. As much as he hated to ruin the mood; "So, Ecosse," He began almost nervously. "shall we stay as we are at the present time, or shall we finished what we started at the club?" His voice was near a purr when he said this. He pecked the other on the cheek. "Either way, I'm happy..."
"That's if ye can handle it~" he chuckled with a little smirk, his fingers slowly tracing those sensitive spots on the Frenchman's neck. Now that he knew one of his weak points, it was really amusing to exploit it. France gasped quietly before giving a little grin in return. "Of course I can," He returned, leaning forward to plant a brief kiss on his lips. "I can handle anything you throw at me~"
"Then I'll throw a lot, I leave no survivors~" he said, kissing him back briefly before his lips wander back down to the man's neck, following the same pattern his fingers had followed previously. He ran a hand through France's blonde curls while the other slipped under his shirt. His fingers circled over the faint scars, some from battles he remembered clearly. France gave a little, appreciative groan. "Mmmm," He hummed. "I like the sound of that..." His fingertips bushed at the skin just above the other's jeans, slowly dragging them up his sides, under his shirt and across his chest, feeling at the scars again.
Scotland shivered, letting out a breathy moan as he tugged at France's shirt. "This has got to go" he growled playfully, not stopping until he had pulledthe shirt off ver his head. Now that the shirt was gone he could happily nip and kiss France's torso, circling one of the pert nipples with his thumb slowly. France gave a couple of mewls and one little moan at Scotland's actions before tugging gently at the hem of the redhead's t-shirt. "Yours too," He said simply, just dying to see more of the Scot's skin exposed. "Alright alright~" he teased, working off his shirt and tossing aside to wherever France's shirt landed. Scotland smirked back at him and flicked his tongue over one of France's nipples before biting it gently, to see if he could rouse him even more.
"A-ah!" France released the call softly, biting his lip gently right after. "Ecosse..." He'd never been so sensitive before... What was different now...? Eveything he felt, heard, smelled was more powerful...He liked it...Scotland couldn't help but grin as he listened to those beautiful noises. It was almost like a symphony to him, urging him to continue working this French instrument of pleasure.
"Mm... Francis~" Scotland purred, kissing down his torso, hovering near his groin. Just for added effect he gently palmed the man through his jeans. France let out a rather loud groan at the sudden attention on his vitals. "Ngh..." He groaned. "Scotland~" The english name rolled off his tongue easily. Scotland laughed quietly and undid the belt and zipper on the man's jeans and gently tugged them down, tilting his head in amusement at the obvious bulge in the man's pants.
"What's this, the Eiffel Tower~?" he teased, groping a little at the bulge with a glint in his blue eyes. France groaned a bit. "Perhaps...~" He replied, smirking slightly down at the redhead and resting a hand on his chest. "Then I better check..." he murmured, pulling down his pants in a swift tug, licking his lips at the sight if the Frenchman's member. "Wonder if it tastes better than your food" Scotland mumbled, leaning his was down to swirl his tongue around the tip. "Ah~!" France called. He let out a low groan at the ministrations.
Scotland hummed quietly as he started licking along his length, alternating to sucking on the organ. "E-Ecosse!" France moaned quietly, gripping the sheet under him and biting a knuckle to keep quiet. "Hey come on, I wanna hear every bit of you~" Scotland murmured, running his hand up and down the man's thigh as he continued his ministrations on the hardening member. France nodded, slowly moving his hand down to match it's twin in the sheet. Scotland's tongue flicked an extra-sensitive spot of skin, making him arch his back and groan loudly. "E-Ecosse-!". Scotland pulled back a little, licking his lips of the pre juices. "Mm much better than wine any day..." he purred, smirking up at him. "But I can't have you copping out so quickly, can I~?"
France managed a grin, sitting up with a rather healthy pink dusting on his cheeks. "Non, I suppose not~". Scotland happily kissed along that adorable pink tint on France's cheeks before licking the other's lips. "I've still got quiet a problem with my Nessie~". France chuckled a bit, reaching down to grip the waist of Scotland's jeans and fumbling with the button. "Well then," He began, nipping at the other's lower lip playfully. "We'll just have to fix that, non~?". Scotland nodded and squirmed out of the tight jeans as he kissed France back, gripping onto his shoulders tightly in anticipation.
The blonde reached down, taking the other's erection gingerly in his hand. He gave the redhead a few slow, firm strokes, flicking his thumb over the tip and purring into his mouth. His other hand pressed against Scotland's chest, shifting his weight to switch their positions. Scotland fell back onto the comfy bed, almost instantly gripping the sheets with a gasp. A few shaky moans escaped his lips as his hips bucked in response to the heavenly strokes. He kept the kiss going as long as he could though had to pause a few times to groan loudly. "F-Francis...!"
"Oui, Ecosse~" France murmured, voice laden with lust. "Say my name~" He kissed a trail from his jaw, to his neck, pausing there to ravish the redhead with kisses and love bites. Once he deemed his work satisfactory, he continued kissing his way down. He closed his lips over one of the hardened pink nubs on Scotland's chest, his tounge teasing it as his free hand reached up to play with the other one, tweaking it gently. Scotland wrights in almost ecstasy, panting harshly from the wavy pleasure he received. He released the sheets from one hand to tangle it in France's hair, gripping on it tight to keep some sense of reality. It reminded him that this was real, this was happening.
"O-Ohh... Francis...s-so good..." he mewled, rocking his hips up desperately to relieve more tension. France circled the tender nub with his tongue, giving it a little nip before switching to the other one. A minute later, he pulled away, grinning up at the Scot before delving lower on his body, mouth hovering right ofer the tip of his erection. "Well, well~! I suppose Big Nessie isn't just a myth after all~" He murmured, kissing the tip before taking the head into his mouth and sucking gently. Scotland swore his vision went blank, melting at the feel of France's tongue touching his body. His skin felt like it was burning wherever France had touched him and the noises he made would make his pleasure known to the other man. He threw his head back to let out another loud groan, shaking slightly though he was hardly cold. He was on fire, beautiful fire.
France began humming a little tune as he took more of the redhead into his mouth and began bobbing up and down, sucking a bit more harshly. He made up for what he couldn't take into his mouth with his hand. "Ahh... Ye sure ye haven't...p-played bagpipes b-before?" Scotland groaned, tugging at France's golden hair a little. There was no way he could last much longer. Something had to give and he was making sure that he wouldn't be first. France pulled away from the throbbing shaft before him grinning at the other. "Oui, quite positive~" He replied, crawling up the other's body to kiss him with his hand still moving slowly.
"Could've fooled me..." he purred, kissing him back sweetly while he slid his hand down to copy France's movements on the other nation's length, keeping it at a slow pace. "You're just beggin' for it, aren't you~?"
"Mmmm," France hummed, rocking his hips gently. "On my hands and knees, Ecosse; on my hands and knees~"
"Then I suggest you get on them~" he chuckled, reaching a free hand around to pinch France's butt. "So I can have you seeing stars~".
France felt an excited shiver creeping up his spine at the Scotsman's words, biting his lip. But he hadn't bottomed with another man for a while; they'd all let him top. He didn't say this to the redhead of course as he slowly crawled off of him and onto the bed. Scotland smirked a little as he watched the man, leaning over to rub his backside and giving it the occasional grope. "How beautiful~" he chuckled, fumbling through his bed side table before he pulled out some rose scented hand lotion. "This will have to do..." Scotland muttered as he lathered his fingers with it. France let out a little groan, biting a his bottom lip gently in anticipation.
Scotland reached over to kiss the man's neck as he circled his entrance with his fingers, gently slipping in two fingers. Scotland allowed France some time to relax against him before he moved his finger in a scissoring motion to stretch him. "Nngh," France groaned, half in pleasure, half in pain. "Mon Dieu..." He pushed slightly back against the other's fingers. Scotland softly bit on one of those sweet little pleasure points on the man's neck to distract him from the pain in his backside. He pushed in a third finger with another thrust, stretching him until he found that wonderful bundle of nerves that would switch any pain to pleasure. And luckily he found it as his fingers brushed against it.
"Ecosse!" France called,eyes closing in bliss as a jolt of pleasure shot up his spine. It was followed by a little groan from the ministrations on his neck. Scotland chuckled at the noises he made, making sure to ram the digits against his prostrate a few more times. "Mm Francis, you sound so sweet..." he murmured, nuzzling his neck. France didn't even try to form a coherent response. He was too high on pleasure to think of anything but Scotland and the wonderful things that same man was doing to him. Once Scotland was satisfied that the Frenchman was properly stretched he pulled his fingers out. He squirted some more of the handlotion on his hands and rubbed it over his member. Scotland positioned himself at the man's entrance, holding onto his hips.
"Ye ready~?" he muttered, gently tracing the small of his back. France shuddered at the teasing touch on his back. "Oui..." He breathed. Scotland nodded a little before he pushed himself in, not stopping until he was fully in. He gave the man a few more minutes to get adjusted before he pulled back to thrust back into him with a low groan. "Nyagh..." France whimpered, small jolts of pain shooting through his body at the feeling of being filled. "H-hurts..." He whispered. "Ssh...I know, I know..." he whispered, kissing his neck gently to calm him. "Tell me when yer ready for me to move..."
France bit his lip as the pain began to subside. A minute or so passed, and he shifted just the slightest bit. "M-move... please..." He murmured. Scotland nodded a little, nibbling on the other's ear slightly as he thrusted into France, slowly and sensually creating a comfortable rhythm with a few loud began moaning as pain turned into pleasure, leaning back a bit against Scotland. After a few more thrusts, he gave and odd groan. "F-faster...". Scotland grinned a little at the command and angled himself so that it would be easier to thrust faster into the man. He groaned at the feeling of the man tight around him, panting the man's name into his ear lovingly.
"Oh, Ecosse~" France moaned,feeling his muscles contract, and a coil in his lower stomach tighten. "Hnn...Francis~" he panted, showing whatever skin he could reach with kisses as he rocked in and out of the man below him. "Ah... AH!" Francis called out, gripping the sheets tightly in his hands. "Ecosse-!" He gave a shaky moan, Taking in the feel of Scotland in him- around him. Oh, how quickly a fantasy became a reality... "Ngh... S-Scotland..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Je t'aime ... donc beaucoup..."
"Tiugainn leam Francis...tiugainn leam!" he groaned. "Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin!". He was nearing his limit, he knew it. Scotland was so close to the edge, but he wouldn't go down first. He snuck his hand around the man's waist to lazily stroke his member back to life. France ddn't even try peicing it together. "Ah... Ecosse-! Ngh... oui..." He just cared about about what the other was doing to him. The coil in his lower stomach tightened until it was nearly unbearable. "AH!" He cried out, reaching his limit. "Ecosse-! J- Je t'aime!" He came messily over the sheets and the other's hand, riding his release blissfully and calling out in pure ecstasy. Scotland let out a loud groan as France's own orgasm spurred on his own, releasing into him. He panted softly, trying to regain his breathe as he held tightly onto the man. Eventually he managed to pull himself out of France and collapsed beside him, still panting from exhaustion.
France collapsed next to him, his body no longer reliable. He was breathing heavily as he opened a blue eye to look at the beautiful Scotsman beside him. The redhead was panting equally as hard. 'That was... amazing...' He thought, smiling a bit. Scotland slowly opened his eyes to stare back at the Frenchman, managing a slight smile at him. He moved a little closer to him and gently wrapped his arms around the nation's waist. He softly nuzzled his neck, gingerly kissing over the bite marks.
The blonde allowed his body to practically melt into the embrace, tilting his head back a bit. He wrapped his arms around Scotland's shoulders lazily, tracing a small line repeatedly on the back of his neck. "That was amazing, Ecosse..." He murmured, voice soft and airy. "You were amazing..." he whispered, kissing his lips softly. "Stay with me for now... Sleepy time..." France smiled before yawning softly. "Oui..." He agreed, pulling a blanket over them and resting his head on Scotland's chest. "Good night, Ecosse..." He murmured. "Je t'aime."
"G'night..." whispered Scotland, kissing the top of the man's head before he closed his eyes and let sleep take him, smiling from the feel of France in his arms.
France snuggeled into him, smiling as his eyes slid closed and sleep washed over him.
And now for the translations~!
French
"Bonjour, Ecosse," - "Hello Scotland"
"Non, Mon ami" - "No, my friend"
"Angleterre" - "England"
"Bien sur, Je t'aime, trop" - "Of course, I love you too"
!Je t'aime ... donc beaucoup..." - "I love you...so much..."
Scottish Gaelic
"An toir thu dhomh pòg?" - "Will you give me a kiss?"
"...Tha gaol agam ort." - "I love you"
"Tiugainn leam Francis...tiugainn leam!" - "Come with me Francis...come with me!"
"Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin!" - "I love you so much!"
I hope you enjoyed that!
Please continue reading my other US x UK fic 'Follow Me Down'~!
And another shout out to StrawberryPockyStix
Love LadyCaledonia
xxx