Language of Love
"Say it." Francis refused to let go of Arthur for all his squirming, holding him tight and kissing the back of his neck, tracing designs on his naked thighs.
"I'm not saying it you stupid french pervert! You can go suck yourself!" Arthur fought to get to the edge of the bed, away from the frenchman whose fingers were capable of magic things. He could feel Francis smirk against his sweaty skin, his blonde hair tickling his face.
"Why would I do that when I have you to do it for me?" Francis nipped his ear, blowing against it. Arthur squeaked, his face hot from desire and embarrassment. "Now say it!" one arm slid up his chest to find a little pink nipple, fingers tweaking it, Francis grinned in amusement as he watched his Angleterre writhe in pleasure. "Say it."
"No!" Arthur was bewildered as Francis stopped the sexual assault. The frenchman looked at him seriously, blue eyes shadowed in the dark. His skin was hot, and they were pressed close together. Arthur found it hard to concentrate. Pleasure throbbed between his legs, and Francis sure as hell wasn't helping.
"Why won't you say it, Mon Cher? You know I love your accent. I like the way your face goes red. I like the sound of your voice. Can't you say it to make me happy?" Francis grinned inwardly. Guilt tripping would work if rape didn't.
Arthur tried to look anywhere but at Francis, face flushed. He was bloody horny dammit, and the blasted git knew it! He huffed, looking at Francis finally. Francis smiled and captured his lips in a kiss. Teeth and tongues moved together for a moment before Francis pulled away.
Arthur could help but note how blasted smug the frog looked.
"Say it."
"Je t'aime, mon cher..." he whispered, his face feeling as though it would burn off. "I hate you so much, you wanker." Francis smiled, kissing his cheek as he spread his legs to continue what they had been doing before.
"I love you too."
Owari
couple... is...love! Thank you, and reveiw please!
Angleterre = England
je t'aime = I love/like you
Mon Cher = my dear