Tout est parfait
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Yepp, my writing group had another challenge. And I chose the theme.
GerFra+Spanking! Obviously, I'd chose a France ship and a BDSM-like theme…
If anyone's interested, I might write some kind of prequel of Germany doing some terrible, terrible and mean, mean things to France.
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« Nous déclinerons l'avenir
comme un ordinateur
Une patrouille en civile
Une matinée de guerre
Au nom de la victime
Et des machines modernes »
— Tout est parfait, Numéro#
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"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Ludwig looked even more flustered and nervous than before, making Francis smile, not without a little pity behind the fondness. The poor boy, he thought, unable to help himself… Even when the other man definitely looked not much younger than he was, and was larger and taller than he could dream to be. There was just something in the way his cheeks reddened, something boyish about his eagerness and his worry, something a little innocent, maybe.
Which was ironic, considering what they would be doing soon.
"Yes," Francis assured, patting the German's cheeks before pulling him close, kissing his forehead with a soft sigh. "How many times did I tell you? I want to do this."
Ludwig looked away, rubbing his hands together and pulled himself away from the older man's grasp, lips set in a tight line. He was already shirtless, making France dreamily brush his fingers against the man's hard flesh, noticing with great satisfaction the bulge forming in his leather pants. The outline of the thick, hard member never failed to give him a shiver – and knowing he had caused it made it even better. If he wasn't too feminine – anymore, those times had passed –, Francis admitted easily that Ludwig was the ideal man; broad-shouldered, a harmonious face and muscular… He would have fitted in a Calvin Klein publicity.
"Well then, just… well, get on my laps."
Francis let out a few excited, apprehensive giggles. Ludwig had large, strong hands… they made him all the more handsome. Of course, paddings and spankings by religious authority as a child were nothing unknown to him, as he had always been a bit too… affectionate to other boys, and a hand would be nothing compared to those, yet… Ludwig, his lover, who finally opened up to him about trying his famous fetishes on him.
Laying over his knees, Francis felt the man's too big shirt hike up to reveal his ass. It might have made someone else rather coy. But the Frenchman couldn't have been called the nation of love if he wasn't taking every occasions to flaunt himself. Amused by his own musings, Francis muffled his giggles into the soft bedspread beneath them.
If Francis had readied himself for his eager partner to slap him right away, the first touch that came was in fact, a gentle hand caressing his asscheeks. Surprised, the Frenchman tried to turn around to see Ludwig's eyes, only to feel a soft, yet firm hand between his shoulder blades. Submissively staying down, Francis' mind reeled suddenly. Was Ludwig doing this because of their not-so-easy history together? To ease him in? Or to apologize? Now that he thought about it hard enough, their sexual life had always been quite vanilla… maybe because – he realised he knew now – of their shared past?
The sex with him always relaxed him more than with anyone else. If he could compare them to anyone, Francis knew he and Arthur were the only ones to truly satiate him, to make him feel understandably complete in their hands. He had no time to think of it more as the first hit landed, almost painless due to how surprising it was, pulling a surprised gasp from him.
His heart thundered in his chest as the others followed, the strong, expert slaps pulling a delicious pain from him, making his whole body as tense as a wire. His erection squeezed between the German's strong thigh and his own, tightly shut legs. The gasps mingled with, and then became moans, the very idea of his strong lover doing this to him, that he had asked him to… it somehow was liberating.
The sharp pain in his glutes numbed his mind, the dull pleasure behind the sting somehow becoming blissful. Nothing reach through his dizzy head but the burn of his behind, the sound of skin hitting skin as reality slipped from him, a sobbing moan leaving his lips. His apprehensive lover stopped automatically, moving his hand to roll him to the side, to look at him. When he brushed his cheeks, Francis realised he had been crying, looking to Ludwig with half-lidded eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked, carefully, shoulders visibly tensed.
Francis needed to laugh at that. Alright? He hadn't felt better in years. And especially at this very moment! His lover cared for him so much; made sure he was fine, that everything was fine… He knew why Ludwig was so careful with him and Francis accepted it, not unlike flatteries.
"Je vais… I'm great," Francis answered, throat dry, unable to focus enough to. "C'est… you're… please, continue?"
Ludwig's softness soothed him entirely… hard to believe not even a century before, they… No. Not now. Now wasn't the time to remember these terrible things. The German seemed to think alike. The blonde ran his reddened hand in his hair as he let him lie back on his laps, handing him a pillow to be more comfortable. How could I have hated him? Francis thought suddenly, pressing the cushion to his chest.
As he was about to hit him again, Francis stopped him, knowing that one thing was missing still to make it all perfect, "Attends ! Please… put your hand on my back like before?" To know the other man would have taken his hand away at any sign of discomfort made his body unwind. For once, he could let himself go with someone, let him care for him…
Ludwig smiled then, laughing, laying his hand on the Frenchman's back with a little sigh. "You are so odd, Franz."
"And you a—oh!" Francis never got to finish his insult, forgetting it as soon as Ludwig's hand met his ass. He squeezed the satin cushion, holding it to his mouth to muffle the sounds he made, more by instinct than timidity. Rocked by the slaps and Ludwig's laboured breath, he could feel his hard cock against his stomach. Ludwig loved to be doing this; he loved to let him do this to him. Through the pain, Francis smiled, pushing his heated forehead against the cushion, letting himself in the taller blonde's hands without any hesitation…
When Ludwig stopped finally, Francis was pitifully hard again, whining and feeling oh so needy, yet, the hand on his back was still just there and he needed to obey, to listen, for once, to stay there until he was told to get up, or until he was moved… Ludwig turned him around to look at him, his thumb wiping his wet cheek. His relief was visible on his face once Francis smiled, even laughed, inebriated by what they had just done.
"Is there something on my face?" The man asked, unable to hold a little smile himself.
That only made him laugh.
"T'étais… you were… were you worried, Ludo?"
It took Ludwig a moment to talk again, his thumb mindlessly rubbing circle on his cheekbone. Francis laid his own hand over his, lifting an eyebrow, to urge him to say more. The blonde knew, of course, what the problem was. He simply wanted to hear it from Ludwig's mouth.
"I've just… thought of things I've done and… I've been wanting to do this with you for a while but… I had done terrible things to you and, even if we're lovers, I just… I feel like we… like we…"
"Like we have too much history for this?"
Ludwig looked down, nodding slowly. Francis shook his head, too relaxed to get upset with him. "I'm not… I'm not fragile. I know… I know it's been difficult between us before." A nice euphemism. With all the wars, no countries had an easy history… but things with Ludwig had been difficult and not just between them. Francis remembered the man's strong, leathered grip crushing his jaw, his large body pushing him against a wall. The hand that gripped his thigh, his deep voice that called him the lowest names – whore, whore, whore, whore – and then…
Francis forced himself to think of something else before he could hear the ri. Ludwig had been drunk from power, hypnotised by a fool. He was different, beneath that black uniform, beneath that black blazer… Ludwig was sensitive and gentle, caring and sweet. There was nothing to worry about and if he had been worried to let him spank him, Francis knew it had lasted no more than a second.
He trusted him. He trusted him, now.
"I'm not fragile, Ludo. And I love you, and I know… I know this is all in the past." Smiling, Francis flicked the man's nose gently. "Maybe you should just… see this as a fresh start, mmh, love? You're a little too nice to me, seeing that I've been an asshole to you more than once, too."
A silence installed itself over them for a few seconds too much, making them both uncomfortable. This didn't need to become a competition of who could be nicer seeing what both had done to the other… Francis only wanted them to be a normal couple, and maybe with a few odd kinks here and there. With a coy smile, Francis pulled Ludwig down to kiss him, smiling against his mouth.
"My ass hurt now. Thanks to you. So… why don't you apologise with a kiss?"
It was Ludwig's turn to smile, mischief filling his sky-blue eyes, making a shiver run up Francis' spine. Laying him on his back, the blonde crawled to his legs, propping one on each of his large shoulders, pressing a kiss to the weeping head of his cock. Francis gasped, watching him as he brushed his mouth against him, going down, and down…
"I'll give you all the kisses you want, anywhere you want them."
It sounded like a promise and Francis parted his legs relaxing under that wonderful little mouth…