Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

WARNING: Rated M for Masturbation/Lime scenes.

Character Pairing: FrUk

Low gasps escaped his barely opened lips as his back arched deliciously. He tried to hold back his moans, but with every stroke the temptation to let it out became more appealing to him. He was starting to lose all capabilities of thinking and was really tempted to focus solely on what was happening to him at the moment. His eyes glazed over for a couple of seconds before he shook his head. He had to overcome this. He gave the clamps around his wrists overhead a good couple of tugs, but it wouldn't loosen the slightest bit.

"Vhat are you doing, Iggy? Iz zis too slow for you?"

He tried shaking his head no, but his head lolled around for a bit. Hanging on the ceiling for hours on end can get a bit tiring. However, before he could even respond, the strokes started picking up their speed and harshness. He threw his head back onto France's shoulder, mouth having fallen open at the first sign of difference in pace. A couple of whimpers escaped his lips and he made no effort to stop them. He could feel himself throbbing in need and it made it even harder to think.

"Iz zat good enough for you? Should I go faster?"

It took him a couple of seconds to focus on the words and realize what was spoken before he, while trembling, shook his head no. His legs tried to spread themselves even more as he leant heavily against France. His hips were starting to move on their own without his permission and it was quite upsetting to think about, when he had the chance to do so.

"I think your body vants me to move faster, doesn't it?" the low whisper in his ear had his hips snapping up and before he knew it, the grip around his erection tightened and he could hear himself mewl in pleasure and pain.

"N-no," he cried, even as his hips thrust sharply into the France's grasp. "I-I…no," he tried again, but his body wouldn't listen to him. It was moving of its own accord and right now it was screaming for that amazing release that was soon to follow if France would keep up the current speed.

"You vant it, don't you? Tell me you vant it?"

He shook his head slowly, unable to do anything else but move his hips. His nipples were throbbing sweetly, wanting the same attention his lower half was receiving, but he would dare not open his mouth to ask. He had more pride than to beg the darn France to give him pleasure. He never wanted this in the first place, he couldn't have. It was France after all, the bloody idiot who wouldn't leave him alone with his stupid language that he couldn't understand and the darn girly fashions that, and he will take this secret to the grave with him, looked really great and amazing on the man.

"Don't lie to me, England, you vant it more than you ever vanted anything else, don't you? Tell me, iz zis ze first time anyone has ever touched you here?"

England moaned loudly as another hand started massaging at his balls so gently he could cry. He wanted his release so badly, but he didn't want to beg for it. Not France, anyone but France, was all he could think about as his back arched higher and his toes curled and hips thrust so quickly he feared they would snap.

"Iz it?"

The question slowly brought him back before it stole him again. He hardly managed to shake his head before tremors of pleasure spiked down his spine and straight down south when the massage's pace quickened in time to meet the strokes. He was so close. He could feel himself trembling uncontrollably and his body tense. He was going to come very soon and he hoped that France wouldn't stop.

"You're close."

England felt the voice wash over his whole body and it made him want to beg in need and want. Wanted France to stop talking to him with that tone, but needed him to keep on using it. He could feel his insides tightening now on the feeling that was fast-approaching.

"Say my name, Iggy. Say it as you come for me. Say it loudly and clearly. Say it for me."

The muttered words kept on repeating themselves into England's ears and he shivered ever so lightly. He wanted to do it. He was really tempted. He body was on such a high string right now, he would do anything France asked of him to reach that state of oblivion he was looking for.

He panted loudly and openly trying to get France to move his hands even faster. Instead, one hand stopped massaging him and he almost whined when he could feel the heat circling his other more private area, the one that he didn't use all that often.

England shook his head frantically, France's name on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't be-!

"Fr-ANCE!"

One of France's fingers slipped in and he flew into oblivion. His hips were thrusting without regards to anything as liquid escaped him in quick, fluid shots. He arched forward into the air, trying to take the most out of it before heaven escaped him again. He sunk into France's hand endlessly until the last drop escaped him and he fell back, panting and shaking profusely.

He couldn't believe what just happened. He had just, with France's help, come shamelessly. The line of red running brightly along his cheeks and the back of his neck and ears wouldn't disappear and he pulled tiredly at the handcuffs.

Without opening his mouth to ask, he was finally released and he kept his eyes on the ground. He couldn't look at the other man, especially not after what had just transpired. He looked around for his clothes, and made a move to grab at them when his wrist was caught.

"Same time, same place tomorrow night, Angleterre?"

He didn't say anything but harshly pulled his wrist away. He picked up his clothes strewn across the floor and bed and dashed out of the room. He didn't answer France nor did he have to. It was their nightly routine, after all.