Hello~! Second part. This story was requested by my good friend Navigating Reality, who supports France/England. Though I tolerate this shipping, I do not enjoy it. I'm more into England/America, just cause I can be. Well, anywho, hope you all enjoy, espescially you N.R. ~Jack
England shivered at the feel of France's hand against his hot crotch. "Fr-France..." He leaned back into the wall for support, the front of his body melting with the other's. How long had they been here? The break was only 30 minutes long; what if someone noticed their abscence and got suspicious? France's fingers unhooked the island nation's belt, and dove into his underpants. England moaned again and was about plead with the other nation, whent he heard the restroom door squeak open. France's fingers stopped moving, and the two held their breath. They stood motionless in the handicapped stall of the U.N. Building's bathroom. Suddenly, England felt France's fingers began to move again. He bit his lower lip and tried to push the taller nation's hands away. "N-no," he whispered, "They'll 'ear!"
"Zey'll only hear," France said, thrusting his knee against England's crotch, "If you moan too loudly."
"I'll moan loudly if you don't get yer bloody 'ands off me!" England growled. France only smirked and pressed on England's groin with more force.
"You son of a- AH!" England gasped as France wrenched his hand from his underwear.
"Until later, mon cheri!" France whispered into the smaller nation's ear. Then, he left England in the bathroom stall. England slid against the wall, stunned. How could the frog just leave him hear? had he done something to anger that French prick? England put his face in his hands and leaned his head back. What was going on?
When England returned to his home, he was greeted by its emptiness. He trudged to the kitchen and grabbed himself the few beers he'd stashed in the fridge. He had been in a foul mood since he left the UN, and thinking about what had happened in the bathroom made his head ache all the worse. Enough, he thought. England raised the first can to his lips. I'm done thinking. The first few drinks were quickly downed, and England wandered around his mansion, with the rest of the beers in tote. He mumbled a few songs and stumbled up the stiars to his room. Once there he whipped out his cell phone and stared blindly into the bright screen. "Fu-ran-ceee..." he groaned.
England undressed himself and crawled onto the bed. He half conciously dialed France's phone number. "Angleterre?" France answered, "What iz zhe meaning of zhis? Calling me so late?"
"Ba-bastard!" England mumbled into the phone. "Yer such a... froggy bastard!"
"I do not understand," France said, "Whay am I zhe bastard?"
"You just are!" England hollered. "You... you left me in that bathroom like a whore! I hate you!" Tears began to fall from England's eyes.
"Mon cher, zhat waz only a little teazing."
"Yer an asshole!" England cried, "Yer... yer... What is it? What did I do? Why did you leave me like that?"
"You mizunderstand, Angleterre," France replied, "I never meant to hurt you, no, no. Az I said, I waz just teazing."
"I want to see you," England whispered, his sniffles dying, "Please."
"Of course, mon petit lapin," France whispered into the receiver, "I'll be there right away. Je t'aime." France hung up. England layed back against his bed sheets and closed his cell phone.
He waited in the dark, sipping the last of his beer. France arrived sometime later, pushing open the bedroom door, and climbing on top of England, bringing him out of his drunken coma. "Wha-?" England was dazed for a moment.
"Look at zhe mess you have made of yourself." France whispered. He took a deep breath and went on, "I suppose it iz my fault. I made you cry after all."
"Damn right, it's yer fault, wanker!" England growled, "You made me feel awful!" Tears streamed down the smaller nation's face once again.
"Mon petit lapin," France cooed, "No more tears." He gently wiped England's eyes, and kissed him. England's face turned red with embarrassment. He squirmed under France.
"France... please..." England moaned.
"Of course." France palemed England's groin waiting for it to hardened. England threw his head back into the pillows of his bed and moaned. The alcohol in his system acted like a natural aphrodisiac. France slowly removed the isalnd nation's shirt, tickling his nipples as the clothing was removed. England's body shuttered in pleasure. His squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep in more tears.
France, opened England's pants and removed them, but he left the dirty blonde's boxers on. He then removed his own shirt. England's eye reopened and he stared at the Frenchman's physic. France's fingers traveled over England's chest, and his tongue shortly followed. England shook and bit into his index finger, trying to hold in those damn embarrassing moans. France, grasped England's wrists and held them above the nation's head.
"Don't stifle your moans, Angleterre," he said, "I want to hear zhem." France ground their hips together, making the island nation gasp and cry out.
"Please, France!" England pleaded, "Hurry. I need you..." He stared up at France, eroctic blush on his cheeks and lust in his emerald eyes.
France felt his own face heat up. "How can I refuze a request like zhat?" he asked himself out loud.
He pulled down England's boxers, and opened the front of his own slacks, freeing himself. He teased the smaller nation for a bit, rubbing the erections together with a painfully slow motion. His fingers dove into the Brit's bum, stretching and probing the warm hole. Satisfied with his work, France removed his fingers and thrust his entire member into England. The island cried out in pleasure, the tears falling again. France pulled out slowly, but slammed back in with increasing force each time. France brought their bodies close, and allowed England's finger to tangle themselves into his hair.
"France!" England moaned, "More." France obligied his quickening thrusts pushing in deeper and moved together on the bed, their pace increasing, forcing the spring matteress to creak under them. "Fran... ce," England panted, "I'm gonna... cum!"
"Togezher," France replied, "Let uz come togezher." Their movements became blunt and hurried. England dug his fingernails into France's back and cried out as orgasm ripped through his body. His juices splashed out over his stomach and spasms racked him for some time. Meanwhile, France had burried himself deep within England's tight arse and released his own load. As the two came down from their high, and Fracne gently slid himself out of the smaller nation, they curled up into each other's arms. England's previous state of drunkeness was sobbered by the sex, but he contently curled himself around the other man.
"Je t'aime, Angleterre," France whispered.
England grunted and rolled over so that he faced the open room. "Keep your disgusting french fetishes to yourself," he grumbled.
France could only smile. "Zhat is zhe England I love."
~End