***Hi! If I call France older, it's because I read on a Hetalia Wiki page that France is supposed to be about 26 years old, whereas England is 23***

He didn't know why he did it. He didn't want to in the first place, and yet, against everything he ever thought would happen, or he would want to happen, there was Francis, standing in his kitchen baking something. Arthur's large bushy eyebrows were suddenly scrunched together as he thought what had happened to cause this, unfortunate occasion to arise.

It started out like any other trip to the market. Arthur Kirkland (or Great Britain/England) was filling his basket with everything he would need to make his "famous" scones, when he heard a very, unforgettably familiar laugh.

"Onhonhonhonhon... Well hello zhere Arthur. What are you doing in zhis place?" Turning, Arthur saw Francis Bonnefoy, also known as France to the other nations. There stood the man, leaning with his weight on a hip, smiling his usual "I-know-you-want-me" smile. Arthur scowled, and kept looking at all the fruits before him.

"The real question is why are you here frog? This is my home, and my market." The French nation smiled and sauntered up to Arthur, continuing the conversation.

"Zhat is an easy answer little one. I am here to check on my leettle corner of your market. You are lucky my friend zhat you caught me, for I usually only visit once a month." Completely ignoring the last part of the answer, Arthur asked with a surprised and almost mortified look upon his face,

"Excuse me? Since when have you had a corner of my market? Where is this bloody corner anyway?" France smiled at the shorter nation and turned, gesturing behind him. As Arthur looked in the direction that was pointed, it seemed as if all life in his eyes disappeared as he was greeted with an enormous bazaar-like tent, simply overflowing with red roses that seemed so large, that they could easily cover any man's... ahem... area. Women danced all around, it, selling one thing or another. The scent of fresh baked goods simply permeated the air around the tent, making everyone's mouth drool and their stomachs crave whatever they were selling in the tent.

"THE HELL?" Cried out the bushy-eyed Englishman. "WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?" Francis laughed his signature laugh, and pulled a rose out of nowhere, brushing it slightly against his cheek and winked at the younger man.

"Oh you silly little Arthur, it has been here since-" he paused just long enough for Arthur to notice a slight blush spread across the older man's face. "Since ZHAT time..." Well Arthur was more confused than a dog chasing it's own tail. His eyes were still void of life as he began to think back, trying to find an event that might have caused Frog-face to come stake land in his own walls. He realized after a few seconds, that Francis was talking of course about the meetings after World War One, where Francis and Alfred would often came over to talk about what they were to do with Ludwig for stirring the whole war up. Some... things happened after Alfred had left the meetings. These "things" all happened against Arthur's will of course. After these "happenings", Arthur was unable to ever look at an office chair and desk the same way again.

"Who said you could use my market as a place to sell your women?" Francis looked at where he was gesturing, and gasped as he saw a British man giving a particularly large-breasted women a lust-filled smile and a few hundred pounds. The French nation quickly began cursing in French at the two, the woman gasped, realizing her boss had seen them. The man tipped his hat and quickly walked away as the woman ran back into the bazaar.

"Oh goodness mon cheri*, I had no idea zhat kind of zhing was happening... How can I make it up to you?" The slightly-bearded man looked down at England's basket, and recognized the ingredients with a tint of green crossing his face. "Tell me mon ami... certainly, certainly you are not making..." the man gulped and barely managed to speak the next word, "scones... are you...?" The short blonde turned his nose defiantly.

"Why yes I am Frog-face. I simply cannot see why everyone hates my scones! They are delicious! Everyone in my home loves them-" and before he could say more, Arthur felt his basket being torn from his hands, and was thrown back onto the counter of the fruit seller. Francis's face was dark with despair as he told the clerk to never let him by these ingredients in one sitting ever again. Francis grabbed England's hand and began to pull him away.

"You blasted beardy, where the hell do you think you are taking me? And unhand me this instant!"

"No." said the Frenchmen sternly. His voice was filled with such passion and drive that it made the Englishman go silent. "I shall never let you cook scones again, if you can even call that creation cooking..." The Frenchman muttered under his breath. He continued with reprimanding the younger man by saying, "You are a terrible chef and you do not deserve to make even Ramen noodles! No. I shall make you something that you will simply adore, and beg me to come over make it everyday."

Well, try as he might have, Arthur could not tear himself away from the strong grip of the Frenchmen, so he let himself be lead through the town up to his house with a scarlet face until he was thrown down into a chair at the island in his kitchen.

"Now zhen, I will need-"

The English nation sighed and huffed loudly as he watched Francis cook. He would never say it out loud, but he loved watching the French nation cook. He was just so at home in a kitchen, it was unnatural how he would know where every ingredient ever was without even having to ask... He just, knew. He also never needed to measure anything. A pinch here, and dash there... It was simply unfair! Francis could have mistaken salt for sugar and he still would've made a master piece! Whereas Arthur would be painstakingly measuring every single thing out, making sure the teaspoon was perfectly even, and everything weighed the exactly as it should, and it would come out looking and tasting like shit!

Arthur sighed, and looked at the clock.

"Bloody hell! Doctor Who is going to be on soon!" the bushy eyebrow-ed man jumped out of his chair and ran to the TV in the other room, leaving Francis all alone with the concoction. As soon as Arthur left the room, Francis's eyes got dark as a shadow was cast over his forehead and eyes as he began to slowly chuckle. He began to keep making the secret dish, but this time, he added something a little bit extra...

Arthur stretched and yawned as he got up from watched a three hour marathon of his favorite TV show, he looked around, remembering that Francis was still somewhere in his house.

"Francis? Where are you you bloody git?"

"I am in zhe kitchen mon ami!" Arthur shuddered at Francis' pet names he gives everyone. Upon entering the kitchen, the English nation found Francis pulling a pie-shaped object from the fridge. "Ah, did you have fun watching your Professor show or whatever it was?" Arthur sat down at his island and responded with a hint of matter-of-factness and protectiveness.

"Doctor Who thank you very much, and yes. I did enjoy it." The French nation smiled and laughed, admiring his creation. While the Whovian babbled on about this doctor, and this companion, Francis began to cut the thing infront of him into a few slices and then topped it all off with generous helpings of home-made cherry and vanilla sauce. Francis smiled and handed Arthur a plate with a most generous slice of cheesecake. Arthur smiled and began turning the plate round and around, admiring the dish. "Well you beardy, I must admit, you certainly know how to make a good-looking chocolate cheesecake." The Englishman reached for a fork, and was about to start eating when Francis slapped him smartly on the hand.

"OW!" cried out the hurt blonde. He dropped the fork with a loud clatter and rubbed his hand before asking, "The hell was that for?" Francis then pulled out a sweet dessert wine and two glasses. Within seconds, Arthur found the man infront of him pouring the wine into the glasses. "Ooooh no." said the bushy eyebrow-ed man. "I'm not drinking any of your fancy liquor. Last time you slipped me some of your wine, I found myself in a meeting room chair, naked with my arse hurting terribly, and you laying naked beside me on the table. No fucking way!" The Frenchman laughed and said kindly,

"But mon ami! Zhis is wine from your own cabinet! I brought none with me, remember?" The younger man thought on this, and realized Francis was correct. He grabbed the wine bottle, and looked it up and down.

"Well, alright." he said after deciding the wine was, in fact, from his own home. He grabbed the plate of cheesecake and the wine and began to chow down, completely ignoring the fact that Francis was there, contently watching him devour his creation with a content smirk.

After the dessert was complete, and the wine was gone (for it was a small bottle), Arthur sighed contentedly and glanced over to the French nation.

"I have to give you this," he started, "that was rather good. But I don't know if it was better than my scones..." he winked and made the French man laugh. Francis stood, and took Arthur by the hand. "Where are we going now?" Arthur asked as he was pulled from the island.

"No where, I was just going to go into the living room, and I wanted you to come." Arthur went along with this and allowed himself to be lead to the sofa. They sat down together and Arthur picked up the remote. Francis snatched it from him and said, "Ah ah ah! You got to ignore me for zhree hours, so I get to pick what we are watching." Arthur let the man flip through the channels until they found a movie they felt they could both watch and enjoy, even though neither of them had heard of it.

As the movie progressed, Arthur began to feel, a bit... relaxed. He sunk lower in the sofa, and eventually put his head on Francis's shoulder. But, for some reason, he just couldn't sit still. He was relaxed, but he was just warm all over. When a love scene came on, he couldn't help but feel a little, excited. He moved his head off of Francis's shoulder and shifted nervously. Francis glanced down to see what was wrong, and quickly looked away as if he didn't notice anything. The love scene began to grow extreme, and even R-worthy.

"Hey! What is this movie rated anyway..?" Nervously asked Arthur as the two lovers began to move things to the bed. Francis just shrugged and smiled. Seeing Francis couldn't care less about the rating, Arthur began to reach for the remote. Francis snatched the remote before Arthur could, and held it a good distance away from his reach.

"Now why should we ruin these two lover's moment? Zhey worked so hard to make zhis scene right, you can tell!" Arthur looked to the TV, to Francis, to the remote, then a slight glance to his, erm, growing problem. He gave up on his attempt to take the remote, not wanting to touch this, beast of a man with his long, silky blonde hair, his soft, glowing, sparkling blue eyes, his stubbly chin, his smooth, calm, manly voice-

"No! I can't let myself think about these things. I have to get away... But how..?" Arthur settled back to his position next to the Frenchman. He grumbled to himself and averted his eyes to the movie.

The noises that were echoing from the picture-box caused Arthur's face to grow hotter and hotter until the scene finally finished and the movie came to a commercial ending. Trying to be nonchalant, Arthur stretched, and stood, claiming he needed to use the restroom. He left slow enough, but when Arthur rounded the corner, he made an extremely mad-dash to his bedroom to "take care" of something. Francis was completely unaware of this, and as soon as Arthur was gone from sight, Francis groaned and thought,

"Why isn't it working? It should have taken effect a long time ago!" France sat and pondered these things while the commercials came to an end and and the movie was ending. "Zhe chocolate should have helped, and the vanilla should have helped since zhey are both an aphrodisiac food..."

Well the movie had ended long ago and now some children's movie was playing (bad timing if you ask me), when Francis finally noticed that Arthur had been gone for some time. Francis turned off the TV and went to investigate, in case something was wrong. Walking to the bathroom door, Francis could hear something happening, but he couldn't tell what... Sounded like, groaning... Thinking something was wrong with the food he had made, Francis ran to the bathroom and quickly opened the door, asking,

"Arthur?" Francis then realized that there was no one there! He looked awkwardly around the bathroom, and realized that the noises were certainly NOT comping from the bathroom. He left the bathroom, and followed the noises with a most keen ear until he found himself with an ear pressed to a door halfway down the hall. The Frenchman smiled his signature smile and whispered,

"I've found you mon cheri..."

Sneaking in like a French ninja, the door was opened and Francis disappeared into the shadows created by the moonlight leaking through the windows (it was afternoon when they met, but time flies, am I right?). Settling into the darkness, Francis whipped out his "Eiffel Tower" and waited for the show to start. Arthur had obviously been at if for a while, because mounds of tissues littered his bed as Arthur worked out his guitar-playing arm on "Big Ben" (that means he was masturbating really fast) while lying completely naked on his queen-sized bed. The blankets and sheets were every which-way as Arthur's heels dug into the mattress, needing more release than what he had previously felt with the napkins sprinkling his bed. He rolled onto his stomach and pushed away the evidence onto the floor as his discarded clothes fell with them. Francis felt his "tower" rising fast, just at the sight of his beautiful Englishman rolling around on the bed, trying to gain the friction he so desperately needed.

"Oh good Lord..." the younger man called, "Oh God! Agh! Gah!" Francis couldn't hold back anymore, he used a small hair-tie that he kept around his wrist and pulled his hair back before taking off every article of clothing he had on... except the rose, always wearing the rose. As he walked towards the bed silently, the friction of his erect member and his legs made the petals of the bloomed flower slowly fall of and land on and about the bed. Arthur finally looked up from the sheets when he noticed the change of pressure on the bed, and made a wanton look of need towards the Frenchmen.

"Oh Lord... What-What have you done to me..?" Francis nuzzled Arthur gently with his nose and stubbly chin before whispering in Arthur's ear,

"Viagra, chocolate, and vanilla certainly have quite the effect on you mon cheri." Arthur groaned, figuring out he had been drugged.

"You were planning this from the start, weren't you...?" The Frenchman smiled and chuckled as he reached down and flipped Arthur over.

"Non, I just noticed you happened to have those ingredients handy, and, well..." Francis chuckled as he forced the Englishman to remove his hands from his dripping member. "How could I resist this...?" Francis took a small lap at the oozing liquid and caused Arthur's breath to hitch. Francis began to pump the shorter man as he leaned close and whispered, "You're razher zhe dirty boy to keep Viagra in and around your home mon cheri... but I was wondering, how many times have you came mon cheri..?" The littler nation beneath him squirmed, not wanting to give up his gruff manner. Francis nipped Arthur's hardened bud and caused the Englishman to cry out, saying,

"Ah! Five! Five times!" Francis was dumbfounded. Five? Five times? And he's STILL wanting more..? Well, that would explain all the "fapkins". Francis looked down at the younger man, and smiled slowly.

"Would you like me to help you finish zhis..?" Arthur was about to say no, when Francis pulled at Arthur's member just right, and caused him to cry out in desire. Francis chuckled and began nipping at Arthur's neck. "I'll take zhat as a 'yes' zhen..." Francis bit down extra hard, then licked the wound apologetically even though Arthur knew he wasn't sorry at all.

Strong, rough hands slowly explored the body of the younger man, causing the receiver to moan softly. Arthur could not look into the eyes of the person above him, his pride would not let him. He bit his knuckles in an attempt not to cry out in pleasure... Francis noted this and chuckled.

"Do not hold back your voice mon cheri, let it ring out..." Arthur glanced down at the man slowly kissing his way down to the organ that was being brutally pumped, and moaned loudly. The Frenchman quickly swallowed the member and caused Arthur to hiss at the searing heat. Up and down, up and down Francis bobbed his head as Arthur still moaned and panted. Francis smirked around Arthur as the Englishman started to turn to goo under his ministrations. Needing something to hold onto, Arthur slid his hands into Francis' soft, flowing blonde hair, gently rubbing his scalp as the hair tie broke free from the hair and landed on the floor. Moaning, groaning, and panting echoed into the room as Arthur stared at the man giving him head. Swallowing deeply, Arthur stuttered,

"W-Wait... pl-please, stop Francis." Francis looked up, worried. Arthur's face had a shadow cast over his eyes, and he sat panting. When Francis let go of his death grip around Arthur's organ, Arthur gave a sigh of relief. After sitting for a few seconds, Arthur lifted his head. His eyes glowing with mischief. "It's my turn." Arthur shoved Francis down on the bed and loomed over the larger man. Arthur brought his face close Francis's face, and whispered in his ear, "You think just because you're bigger means you can top me, don't you..?" Francis moaned as Arthur's tongue made a trail from his neck, down to his own throbbing member.

"Wait a bit darling." Francis felt his face turn red as Arthur turned and fumbled around on the nightstand for this unscented lotion. After popping the top, Arthur poured a very generous amount on both his organ and on his fingers. Arthur kissed Francis's forehead as he quickly thrusted a single finger into Francis.

"Ah!" was all the response Arthur got from his actions. He chuckled, knowing Francis was going to be making more noises than that very, very soon. Francis wasn't used to being the bottom. He was the country of love, so he should be giving the love, not receiving! Francis winced as Arthur put another finger into his opening. Arthur understood the discomfort Francis was feeling, so as he scissored his love's opening, he bent down and kissed Francis's tightly shut eyelids.

"Relax frog, or it'll hurt more than it should." Francis smiled and opened his eyes, staring into the green orbs above him. A third finger was added and Arthur hit Francis's prostate.

"FUCK!" Francis cried out as his vision went white. "Mon cheri... Please, hurry." Arthur smiled and removed his fingers. Francis groaned at the loss as Arthur lined himself up with the gaping hole.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." And with that sentence, Arthur thrusted himself fully into the older man. Francis gasped and bit his lip as he dug his nails securely into the younger man's back. Arthur moaned in pain and pleasure as he felt the scratches draw blood.

"Oh God Francis... you're so fucking tight..." The Frenchman gulped, and squeezed the tears away from his eyes.

"Ou-Oui... I'm, a, I'm not very well practiced in this form of love-making... I'm, a, usually the top..." Francis glanced up to the shorter man and smiled sheepishly. The current dom smiled back and kissed Francis up and down his chest and neck, trying to draw the pain away from the Frenchmen's ass.

After a few minutes, Francis got used to the pain and discomfort and started to wiggle his hips, spurring on Arthur. Arthur got the message, and started to slowly rock his hips against Francis's. The slow movement quickly turned rapid and almost devilishly fast as Francis cried out with every thrust, for Arthur was hitting his prostrate every time.

"Dieu Arthur! S'il vous plaît, plus! Donne-moi plus!"** were the Frenchman's cries.

"Oh God Francis... God... Fuck!" As the two reached their final climax, Arthur bent over Francis and began to kiss him deeply and ferociously. Their tongues battled inside each other's mouths as their muffled ecstasy cries echoed around the dueling appendages. The two came together, Arthur releasing himself into the Frenchman, and Francis onto the chest and stomach of the Englishman. Arthur rode out his orgasm, as Francis pulled apart for the need of air. Having fully enjoyed the moment, Arthur pulled his softening organ out of his lover. The Englishman glanced down at his chest and stomach, and caused Francis to blush.

"Sorry mon cheri..." Arthur smiled and wiped it off his body.

"It's nothing Francis... I prefer it this way..." Arthur licked the stuff off his hand and laid down after inviting Francis to rest his head upon his chest. Francis crawled towards the shorter man and snuggled against him. Artur pulled the soft bedding around him and his bearded lover, and sighed contentedly.

"Hey frog-face..."

"Hmm..?"

"I do believe that I love you..." The Frenchman chuckled and whispered as they drifted into sleep,

"I know... Et Je t'aime."***

The sun was unbearingly bright the next morning as Francis found the few sunbeams coming through the windows.

"Zhe stupid sun... Always having perfect aim..." He closed his eyes tightly as the Frenchman turned over to place his arms around the one he spent the night with, only to find the place empty and cold. Opening one eye, he saw that indeed, the smaller man was not there. Francis opened both eyes and sighed, thinking he probably left a note somewhere saying he had to leave for work, and that there was cereal in the cupboard. So, the long-haired man stood and pulled on his jeans with much trouble. He swore a few times as he felt his ass throb with pain, but he managed to get downstairs to the kitchen. Normally, the place would be empty, but this time, there stood Arthur, intently reading a cook-book. Flour was in his hair, and there was a pancake or two on the ceiling, but Francis was both surprised and touched. Surprised because Arthur never did this, and touched because it was most likely for him.

As he walked towards the smaller man, Francis felt something fall on his head.

"Qu'est-ce-?"**** was the only warning that Arthur received to tell him that there was someone else in the room. He spun around to see Francis standing, shirtless, with a half-cooked pancake on his head, drooping perfectly over one eye.

"You were supposed to sleep longer! I wanted this to be a surprise!" complained Arthur with a pouting lip. Francis removed the pancake from his head and placed it on the counter.

"I'm sorry mon cheri, but zhe sun decided it would wake me sooner." Francis leaned on the island where the two sat last night and pulled Arthur closer by placing a firm hand upon Arthur's hips. The two gazed into each other's eyes for a while, but soon closed their eyes and placed their foreheads together, listening to their synced breathing and enjoying this rare calm in the storm of life.

Francis soon opened his eyes and placed his free hand in Arthur's chin and tilted it up, so he would have a better reach to kiss the shorter man. He pressed his lips to the smaller mans, and they soon got lost in the act. So lost, that they barely noticed the smoke billowing behind them. They would have kept at it if the smoke alarm had not gone off, warning them of their carelessness.

"I'm sorry the pancakes didn't work out Francis..." sulked the green-eyed man. The two men were seated at the island after cleaning up the burnt pancakes. Francis smiled and laughed as he poured milk into his Frosted Flakes.

"It's nozhing mon cheri... I was almost wanting cereal today."

.:.

.:.

PLEASE RR! :D

* my love

** God Arthur! Please, more! Gimme more!

*** And I love you.

**** What the-?