SOY: France/Italy, a short one just for you fans, because the world needs more of this pairing, don't you agree? :3
For this fic, the human names are only given to humans. You'll see what I mean. :D
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Rating: T.
Warnings: France being France, frottage.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
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Relinquish
One–shot
Italy was quite scared.
Not just simply scared, because Italy got scared for the simplest things, really. He'd get scared if a cat, or a dog, came up too close without him noticing. He'd get scared if a shadow resembling England appeared behind a bush. He'd get seriously scared by Germany's bossing, too, because really, Germany was scary.
But this was a different kind of fear.
It was worse than being attacked by England, actually.
It was worse than fighting.
His entire world was shaking and tumbling over by that single, small detail.
He'd been hitting on a cute girl (who was actually taller than him, but it was ok), when said cute girl had suddenly turned to him, returning the flirting. She had beautiful shoulder–length hair and had a veil on the lower side of her face, and really deep eyes –a bit familiar, but it was probably because he was in German territories, and women were all taller and such.
Italy was a charmer, but this girl had took the lead, this time.
"So, you said… your name is… Feliciano?" the girl's voice had a slight deep tone, a bit… manly–sounding, but it was nothing Italy really cared to notice. "What a cute name for a cute guy".
Italy chuckled "I'm not cute, I'm manly~" he's tilted his head to the side, shifting his weight so he was leaning a bit towards the girl, and smiled warmly. "But you, are really cute".
It wasn't that he was a womanizer. After all, he'd never moved further than flirting with anyone (he was reserving anything for someone he could actually love), but he knew how to flirt. It was in his blood.
He could appeal to about anyone and do it swiftly and flawlessly.
It was funny, it was endearing, and it was something he was good at.
The girl had smiled back, with a light flush on her pretty cheeks, and had shifted backwards, eyes facing the side for a second and taking a darker, maybe a bit scary look, but again Italy paid no notice.
"You're a charmer" she had stated, and her voice had lowered a bit more. "So tell me, Feliciano, you are not a German, where are you from?"
Italy's hand found its way to the cute girl's own, and held it up with care, almost preciously, as he did a quick, reverent bow. "Oh, I'm an Italian, bella signorina… will you grant me the wish of your name now?" to add to the flirting, he pressed his lips to the back of the hand he was holding.
What a big hand… German girls were really… bigger. It didn't deter him, but still.
The girl leaned forwards, staring deeply into his eyes and making him reel back in surprise. Were German girls also so direct? "My name, huh?"
And then, the girl bent forwards, breathing on his face. Italy felt his cheeks burn in surprise and embarrassment, and tried to move backwards and regain a bit of decency, but the girl didn't allow him, switching the hold so it was she holding his hand in a steely grip, and Italy was trapped.
"Ah–uh…" Italy didn't really know what to do. Dominant girls freaked him out a bit.
The girl smirked almost predatorily, and closed the distance between them, kissing him on the lips.
Italy gasped out in shock.
So, ok, he had never kissed someone before, not on the lips, not even Germany (even though he'd tried to), but weren't girls' lips supposed to be… well, he didn't really know exactly but something wasn't feeling completely right here.
The girl took this gasp as a chance, and wormed her tongue in the Italian's mouth, moving it expertly to caress and taste, whilst her free hand moved to Italy's back, holding him up.
Italy let an undignified half–squeal, half–moan at the kiss and at the hold, cheeks flushing even darker and he vainly tried to push the girl away.
When the girl, who was now hovering over him, pressing him against a wall (when did that happen?), finally moved away, Italy gasped again, trying to regain some of his missing breath, and didn't even notice how she dropped his hand and proceeded to move it higher, brushing against his collarbone, then higher–
"Ahn~"
Italy felt his embarrassment grow thrice as big when the girl moved her hand through his hair, brushing her fingers against his curl, effectively rendering his brain a muddle.
Pleasure cursed through his body and he tried to shift away, to keep his hair out of the girl's grip, but it was hard to think about anything else when those fingers kept stroking it… almost as if knowing…
The lips that had kissed him seconds before lowered to his neck, sending shivers through his body, and Italy gripped at the stone of the wall with all his remaining sanity "ah… please, sto–nnn–stop…"
His problems were growing harder to ignore now, as he was quickly aroused, and it didn't help at all when the girl shifted sideways, so one of her legs pressed against–
"Ah!"
Italy was close.
Every brush of his hair, every torturous lick on his neck and ear, every shift of that leg made him twitch and spasm closer to completion, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it…
Until his own knee brushed against something that shouldn't have been there. At all.
Italy's mind cleared a bit as the 'girl' above him hummed in appreciation, and pushed closer, revealing that down there, something was quite erect, too.
It took Italy's brain a total of three more seconds to finally understand, and by then, the 'girl' had stopped her ministrations, to allow him time to recover.
"Y–you!" he moaned, resuming his attempts to push the other away "y–you're not a–"
"Of course not, mon chere Ita" the deep voice from before turned suddenly way manlier, and the veil moved out of the way enough for Italy to see the small goatee. "You asked for my name, n'est pas? Well, it's France!"
Italy let out a wail of shock, but he was in no way able to move or run.
France resumed his stroking, and there was nothing else to do for Italy than grab his shoulders and writhe in the older nation's arms, unable to escape and unable to resist.
And Italy had to give it to France… he knew what he was doing.
"Ahn… Brother… Fr… France…"
Francis caught Italy's lips in another kiss, pressing himself against the smaller body and humping him, and Italy shifted as well, trying to reign at least a small grain of control over the pleasure that was rocking through him, but it was a battle already lost.
France controlled every small movement he allowed Italy to make, controlled the speed of his own strokes and kisses and bites and licks, and just how hard he thrust against the other's body, smirking in delight at the flushed face so close to his.
Oh, how he enjoyed having his little Ita like this… all that beautiful territory, that innocence… he'd need to check it out with the older brother too, sometimes. Or at least both of them together…
The mental image of having both brothers writhing underneath him, and maybe whilst they pleasured each other, caused him to move harder, picking his pace up a bit, thrusting against Italy's own erection, uncaring if they were both clothed at the time –he just wanted to watch that face as he climaxed, and–
"Hnn~" Italy opened his mouth and groaned out, his entire body trembling as it fell in France's arms, completely spent, and France wasn't far, groaning in pride as he, too came.
Not even ten minutes later, he was merrily walking down the street, to meet up with England and America, Italy slumped over his shoulder. Maybe after he'd gotten to the other two, he could have another round.
"Ve~ I can see Brother France's hairy legs~"
Or maybe he could change to his usual clothes first.
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"Germany~! Germany~! I was hitting on someone because I thought it was a cute girl, but it was actually France in disguise!"
Germany felt a twitch develop on his eyebrow, and fought the urge to slam the phone handle down and just ignore the call.
Fortunately, he knew the Allies would get bored of Italy pretty soon and drop him back home. Especially France, that guy was a no–good–lecher but he surely knew there was nothing to gain from Italy's capture.
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SOY: that's it, what do you thing? I wrote this one a bit ago, but I never posted it here, so I thought I could do that now :D
Bella signorina (Italian) – Cute girl
N'est pas (French) – Isn't it?
Mon cher (French) – My dear.