Whew
England could just be so tiring. Most of his life France would be hard pressed to say anything other than the fact that it could only last for so long. Then again, there were all of those other hidden nights and shadowed day lit moments that England was also tiring in... but in which France enjoyed so much more.
Between the sex and the temper, France easily would admit (but only to himself, mind you, as it took him a long time to say it out loud to anyone) that both of them were quite worth the other half of the coin. After all, a franc only was worth anything if it had a front and a backside.
And by all that was good in the world, France liked that backside.
"What are you doing?" England groaned as France began kissing up his chest again.
"What does it feel like I'm doing?"
"Again?" the smaller man asked. France laughed into his navel.
"I have to take advantage of this now, Angleterre, before you change your mind~"
"You, sir, are an insatiable monster."
"And you, monsieur, are an exquisite dish."
England rolled his eyes, the movement contrasting with the smile he was trying to keep from his lips. "Do go on."
"Volontiers."
This was quite a common sight, nothing spectacular about the words which would describe the both of them. In fact, it was probably a repetition of things they had done before... again, again, and again. They filled up books, hundreds and hundreds of books, with so many chapters and more than half of them were the two of them doing the same things to each other over and over, with the same results, and unable to escape the inexplicable loop they were forever trapped in.
So yes, England was tiring in every way. France did his best to be the same.
"Stand absolutely still."
"Is it gone?"
"No, just wait a moment... hm~"
"France!"