Feels, feels everywhere!

Warning: Lemon, fluff, oral, a little confrontation, tension, RusAme, some fluffy FrUK, and mention of past FrUS.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Heartbeat

They didn't know what time it was nor did they want to. They had their usual meal of mush and gristle the Organization failed to notice was missing from their rations before reporting straight to bed. They all knew sleep was impossible, but that didn't keep them from trying.

Ivan was restless. He lay in his sleeping bag at the foot of Alfred's empty cot and brooded. He supposed it was his bladder bothering him, but when he found himself standing before the toilet (having barely perceived his walk from the room and across the hall), nothing came out, and he was just as soon zipping up and heading back to the dismal room where all the others were equally as troubled. He entered and was generally ignored by everyone; Francis leaning against the wall on his cot with Arthur lying down with his nose to the wall beside him; Matthew keeping tune with the tension with every tap of his anxious fingers. Ivan decided that the room was so oppressive, trapping all the angst within himself every moment he lingered there. No one spared him so much as a glance as he bent to roll up his sleeping bag and grab his pancake of a pillow, intent upon wandering the small bunker until he could find a little corner—any little corner—in which he could find a sliver of peace.

He made his way back out into the hallway to begin his search, but something made him stop. Alfred's voice was floating to him from the cramped meeting room. Ivan made his way over, curious as to why only Alfred saw it fit to speak when everyone else was agonizing in silence, and saw Alfred sitting in a chair at the table, making conversation with Shawn. He knew Alfred had seen him, that much was clear by the strands of his hair swishing as if he had just turned his head after detecting his presence. But Ivan refused to leave; something was off, and he knew it by the way Alfred's tone suddenly became more casual, as he forced a smile to pull at his chapped lips, as Alfred's hand, once resting on the table, made its way up to rest on Shawn's shoulder.

Ivan had had enough. Something snapped in him, as it almost always did, and before he knew it he had stormed into the room, snatched up the wrist of the hand still resting with promise on Shawn's shoulder, and without a word wrenched Alfred out of the room, down the hall, and into the shower room.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Alfred threw at him as Ivan promptly locked the door. The Russian didn't answer as he pitched his sleeping bag and pillow to the floor in a haphazard heap before giving Alfred a rough shove. Alfred let out a startled yelp and flailed feebly, but he fell on his ass anyway and was soon on his back as Ivan loomed over him, shaking and dagger-eyed with rage.

"Why did I think you could be any different?" Ivan asked through his teeth. "A pig is too stubborn to change. I should have known."

Alfred blinked up at him, for once truly frightened. Ivan appeared fit to tear off one of his limbs. "I-I don't know what you mean," he said in a small voice.

Ivan smiled at this—a wicked, derisive wall of teeth the likes of which Alfred hadn't seen since their competitive years. "You know," the man replied, fingers traveling up to Alfred's mussed hair and digging his nails into the scalp as he snatched up a clump. "Oh, you know."

Alfred's eyes went wide and he writhed, his voice lost to him as Ivan leaned in and continued, "You would go so far as to whore yourself out to a stranger just to prove that you've moved on?" Ivan scoffed and yanked his fingers from Alfred's hair, letting the man's head drop back to the hard floor, flooding Alfred's vision with blooming black spots. "You disgust me, pig."

"I have nothing to say to you," Alfred flashed back bravely, despite his trembling hands. "We're done, and I can do what I want. Now get off of me."

But Ivan didn't get off; instead he snatched Alfred up by the collar. "You saw me walk in, you saw me watching. You are so fucking bent on hurting me, da? Just like you always have been. I bet you love hurting people."

Alfred gagged a bit and his eyes darted elsewhere, unable to meet such an accusing gaze. "I-I don't. You're doing this to yourself, Ivan. You're hurt because you can't have me and because I don't want you."

Ivan felt a peculiar but not altogether unfamiliar pressure behind his eyes, and he countered by saying, "Then look at me and tell me you don't want me. Tell me after all the shit that's happened, after that kiss, that just seeing me makes you sick."

Alfred's resolve had been gradually waning since words had first left his own mouth, but now it was being torn down into a tumbling heap. He took his lower lip between his teeth and chewed through the peeling skin, trying as much as he could to rid himself of the feel of Ivan's own lips pressed to it. He sucked on it, drawing the blood into his mouth and hoping the taste of it would be enough to put him off.

But it didn't come close. A minute after Ivan had spoken, Alfred turned his head, took in the eyes that appeared as conflicted as Alfred felt, and said, "I can't. You know I can't."

Ivan stared for a moment, as if expecting to hear something more, before letting Alfred go, glancing away, and shaking his head. "This lust between us has been fed too much to be considered as anything else but what it is." He lifted his eyes to Alfred's own once again, empty. "Go and let him fuck you. That's all you ever had the ability to possess, da? Lust?"

Alfred took a deep breath and sighed. "No, that's not what I meant."

"You lied to me," Ivan accused scathingly, as if Alfred hadn't even spoken. The confliction was gone, and the anger was back, renewed and thriving. "What else should I have expected? You have always lied. Why did I ever think words could ring as meaningful in your thick skull? You call me cold. Tell me what else I did but chase you and what else you did but keep running away."

Alfred could see that Ivan's exasperation and hurt were swallowing his rage. Alfred couldn't look away; it was something Ivan had never shown him before. Was this what he went through every time Alfred had passed up his advances? And then his quivering hands were at either side of Ivan's passion-flushed face, words lost to him for a few breathless moments as Ivan's eyes flickered with hope and desperation. "I didn't lie, Ivan," Alfred assured, his voice feathery and refusing to return to normal. "Not about that. There are many shitty things I would do to you to hurt you, but I would never lie about loving you. Because that's not a lie."

I can't get close. I promised myself that.

Alfred couldn't hear Ivan breathing after that; the man was completely silent, just staring. It was almost disturbing. After about half a minute, Alfred thought that Ivan might turn blue and keel over. He honestly didn't know what to do. It was obvious that Ivan was jealous, and that surely was a sign that he wanted Alfred (possibly a possessive tendency, not exactly love, now that he thought about it), and the man seemed so unstable that he was afraid to disrupt him in any way. So he just sat there on his knees, hands glued to Ivan's face, hoping the man didn't hear the thundering of his heart.

If I do, your death will kill me. There will be nothing left of me.

Then Ivan took a deep breath and said, his voice more childishly innocent and heartbroken than Alfred had ever heard it, "Stop lying to me, please."

Now Alfred was the one who was exasperated. He let his hands fall from Ivan's face. "I'm not lying. Ivan," Alfred continued tentatively, finding Ivan's hands and holding them, effectively grounding Alfred in his anxiety and lost sense of direction. "I… I know I've lied to you about so many things before, and you've lied to me. But please believe me when I tell you, I…" Alfred swallowed. His tongue felt like a dry sponge in his mouth; it couldn't soak up any words. He reorganized his sentence and went on, "I'm in love with you, Ivan. I have been for a long time, and I'm sorry for ignoring it. I've just… um, I-I've never really been in love with anyone else before, certainly not with a rival, and I didn't know what to do. I thought too much about what other people might think…" Alfred paused to take a breath and his mind screamed at him to glance away, to hide his embarrassment at the confession, but he couldn't bring himself to, not when Ivan was staring at him with eyes so wide and uncharacteristically wet. "Please believe me," Alfred managed, worried that Ivan might break, in which case he wouldn't know what to do.

But I want you. I need you with me.

Seconds ticked by, and Alfred counted his rapid heartbeats, tried to ignore how hot his face felt. Ivan, he found, was starting to redden as well, and the Russian abruptly catching Alfred's face in his hands and kissing him full on the mouth expressed the reason why.

Alfred's mind madly backpedaled, but he remained frozen in place as Ivan's lips moved against his own, and he never knew lips could be so beseeching. He knew he shouldn't be nurturing what, for all intents and purposes, was an addiction, but he also knew that if he pulled away now he may never be able to do this again. Alfred's head was a mess of simultaneously exploding firecrackers, thoughts flying every which way, leaving his body to run on autopilot, digging his fingers into the fabric of Ivan's coat and pulling him and his hungry mouth down onto the rumpled sleeping bag.

Stay with me, please. Stay with me like I once stayed with you. Remember?

It was a struggle to part ways with Alfred's mouth, especially when the man started reciprocating with equal fervor, but Ivan managed to free his lower lip of Alfred's teeth before pulling back and taking in the unbelievable sight below him. Fuck, this was really happening. Alfred had never looked so sincere, laying there with his hair fanned out, face gaunt and weary just as everyone else's, but eyes wide and pleading, as if he feared Ivan may leave him like that and never come back. Ivan didn't need Alfred's hand against his cheek nor his lips forming a breathless "Please," to return to his earlier ministrations.

It was a good thing that Ivan had locked the door, Alfred thought, as he felt overly gentle hands roll his shirt upward. He whined as he was forced to detach himself briefly to tug the garment over his head, seizing Ivan's mouth again even before he could toss it away. Ivan was slow and surprisingly soft but lengthy, and Alfred quickly found himself becoming dizzy with lack of oxygen. It was only when Alfred thought he would absolutely pass out that he finally broke the kiss off, gasping for breath, doing so even louder as Ivan moved to his side to circle his tongue behind Alfred's earlobe, trailing the tip of it in a hot line down Alfred's neck, rolling over his bobbing Adam's apple, flicking at his collarbone, arriving at his nipples and testing the already pert nubs with light, wet touches that made Alfred squirm.

Even if we just have this moment. I don't care. I don't.

"Ivan," he moaned as the Russian tugged on the nipple with his teeth before engulfing it with his mouth. Alfred's fingers threaded through Ivan's ash blond hair, nails digging in as Ivan sealed his lips over the nub with suction, back arching as the man finished and moved onto the next.

God, how many more moments could have been had?

Ivan passed a thumb over a slick nipple, sore from sucking, kissing his way down past Alfred's quivering belly to arrive at his belly button, and he plunged his tongue in. His hands worked at Alfred's pants, the zipper loud to his eager ears as he slipped the material off. Alfred's hips jerked, and he spread his legs further as Ivan licked a hot stripe up the junction of Alfred's thigh and hip. He moved closer still, leaving warm, teasing puffs of breath at the start of Alfred's honey blond thatch, nose-tip ghosting over flushed skin. "Please," Alfred begged. He was writhing, urging Ivan lower, fingers tugging off-silver hair insistently. Ivan complied, hands taking hold of Alfred's twitching hips and regarding the man's cock, already dripping and purpling. Ivan hadn't sucked anyone off in a while, but he didn't particularly care about that fact as he took Alfred's cock into his hand and ran his tongue from base to tip. Alfred had to snatch a hand back from Ivan's head to cover his mouth, silencing a loud moan. Encouraged, Ivan licked him again, this time lingering on the leaking head long enough to taste the fresh precum that dribbled from it. "Oh, fuck, please," Alfred moaned, almost forgetting to check his voice as Ivan finally took him into his mouth. Alfred raised himself on his elbows enough to peer down and see Ivan peering equally up at him, his mouth stuffed with half of Alfred's cock. "Fuck," Alfred groaned, shuddering, Ivan pulling off to swirl his tongue around the crown before swallowing him again, further this time. Alfred threw his head back and couldn't stop his hips from rolling just once. "Oh God."

Ivan never did like giving blowjobs, but the way Alfred was moaning and writhing for him made him choke himself on Alfred's cock just to prolong it. He continued to suckle, and his fingers traveled to Alfred's balls, rubbing them with the pad of his thumb. "Ivan—a-ah, no, I-I c-can't—"

We could have had everything. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ivan. I'm a dumbass, and I don't deserve you.

Ivan pulled off with a wet pop of saliva to kiss up the side, wrapping a hand around the shaft and fisting it at an almost painful pace. He glanced up just in time to see Alfred's head fall back, a moan escaping his lips as his cock swelled up and he came, hips rolling and cum flying up to the younger's chest. Ivan licked up what escaped down the sides of Alfred's cock before he sat up, wiping off the cum that had gotten on the corners of his mouth and cheek. He hoisted Alfred's legs up by the backs of his knees, crooking them and spreading them to accommodate his form. He bent to ghost his lips up one of Alfred's inner thighs, the muscles still shuddering in post-orgasmic bliss, and placed a kiss there, watching Alfred come down from his high.

He didn't need to ask. He need only wait for Alfred's hooded eyes and lingering whine to give permission, and Ivan groped for the little bottles lined up on the floor next to the tub, choosing one with barely a glance and popping open the cap. He paused, barely remembering to divest himself of his own clothing, nearly sending the buttons flying as he yanked open his coat, pulled his shirt over his head, and hurriedly shucked off his own pants and underwear, shoes and socks. Alfred whined anew, his eyes following Ivan's hand as it grabbed up the bottle again and received a generous dollop of the cheap shampoo, transferring its slickness to his erect cock.

Alfred shifted beneath him, unable to keep still or completely silent. He was burning from the inside out and wasn't sure he could keep his sanity if he couldn't feel Ivan's skin against his own. His skin burned where Ivan's hands touched it, and he wanted Ivan to be close, to be inside, where he could feel the man's pulse rushing along with his own. Ivan scooped Alfred's rear up with both hands and guided himself in.

"Ivaaaan~" Alfred's head went back, spine curving inward and hands clutching at the puffy material of the sleeping bag he was laying on. It was doused in Ivan's scent, and Alfred could drown in it even as it was setting his blood on fire.

Entry was perhaps the easiest that Ivan had ever experienced; Alfred's heat swallowed him up, and soon he was completely submerged, relishing how the soft insides squeezed around him, urging him to move. Instead he remained still, wanting the moment of initial reunification to last for as long as he could make it. He brought himself down on his elbows, hovering over Alfred and taking in his face. He threaded his fingers through Alfred's outgrown hair and captured his lips, not offering his tongue as he usually did. Alfred opened his mouth, tried to welcome Ivan inside, but Ivan was determined to show Alfred what he had been trying to show him for centuries. Ivan worked at Alfred's lips, sucking and licking until they were swollen and a ripe red. It wasn't until Alfred grabbed his face and effectively smashed his mouth down onto his own that Ivan surrendered his tongue and Alfred gladly sucked on it.

Thank you for loving me anyway. Thank you for needing me. All those years wondering when I'd have my chance to need someone, and they were standing right in front of me the whole time.

Ivan was forced to come up for air when he felt Alfred clamp around him. "Бог," he moaned breathlessly into Alfred's ear, feeling the man shiver beneath him. He settled his nose behind the curve of Alfred's ear and took in his scent. Ivan brushed his lips across the tender shell of skin. Alfred's arms came up and around him, digging his fingers into Ivan's hair, holding him. "Бог, ты прекрасна, Fredka."

"Fuck, Ivan~" Alfred had thought that the term 'melting' was just some cheesy rumor circulated by infatuated girls to be giggled stupidly over, but God if Alfred wasn't anything but melting now. He hadn't heard Ivan call him that for a long time, not since they'd first met when Alfred was young and stupid and Ivan was young and troubled. He remembered the day so clearly now like he'd never remembered it before—how Ivan was so tall and imposing, how Alfred had admired him, how traveled he'd seemed, how when Alfred had heard he loved sunflowers he had given him pots of them in hopes of procuring his allegiance. Instead, he had received a look so foreign to him, a blush he'd thought so out of place, that he hadn't known what it was. Only now did he realize it was the beginnings of a long, one-sided adoration.

I gave you fucking sunflowers when you really wanted me.

"Ivan, please," Alfred begged, crossing his ankles tightly over Ivan's lower back. "Again, please."

Ivan's lips made their way down Alfred's neck, his response punctuated by a slow, deep thrust that had Alfred scrabbling at his back with his nails. He knew exactly what Alfred wanted. "Я тоже тебя люблю, Fredka." He continued to whisper the name lovingly against the quivering skin, sucking at a soft patch of it. Alfred was so warm, always warm, and sunny in a way that had Ivan wondering whether to be envious or admiring. He secretly wished, sometimes, that he could be like Alfred in such a way. But if he couldn't achieve that, he could at least have Alfred, thrive off of him. "Я тебя очень люблю."

Alfred squirmed and pushed his hips down on Ivan's cock, which was stationary in his ass. "Please, Ivan, I-I need…"

"I know what you need, моя любовь," Ivan muttered as he swirled his tongue over the purpling lovebite he'd created, pulling out and thrusting back in.

"A-ahh." Alfred tugged Ivan harshly up by his hair. "K-kiss me, dammit."

Ivan complied wholeheartedly, his brain turning to mush at the feel of Alfred clinging to him like he was some kind of lifeline. What he would have given to have felt Alfred hold him like that before. He dipped his tongue into Alfred's mouth, pursuing and stroking the other's gently, surprised when Alfred responded just as softly. This was new territory for the both of them, and neither wanted to destroy the fragility of it.

There was a point at which they could no longer kiss for want of breath, and Ivan decided to make up for it with his thrusts. Alfred moaned aloud, hardly caring who heard, and raked red trails down Ivan's milk-white back. Ivan lost his coherency and had just enough sense to lace his fingers with Alfred's own before pumping in and out of him consistently. Alfred's hand held his like a vice, as if afraid he might float away if not anchored. Everything was hazy and hot and right. Ivan's breath puffed against his face, eyes holding Alfred's own, barely blinking, not wanting to miss a moment. Alfred leaned up to pepper the Russian's flushed cheeks with messy kisses, throwing his head back once again as his prostate was struck. Ivan smiled. Alfred was so dramatic, even during sex, though it appeared as if he couldn't help it. It was sort of cute. He moved down to flick his tongue across Alfred's racing pulse, giving him open-mouthed kisses along the side of his neck.

"Ivan, yes," Alfred moaned, hips rolling into Ivan's onslaught. His own cock was sore with neglect, near to bursting. "Please, please—m-my cock, oh God, Ivan." He clutched Ivan tightly, afraid to let go to tend to himself.

"Fredka, говоришь, что любишь меня. Мой Fredka," Ivan groaned feverishly as he stretched a clumsy hand between them to stroke Alfred's straining cock.

Please, I want to hear that name for just a little longer.

Alfred was writhing, and he feared he was opening the skin on Ivan's back, but the worry was merely a flit of concern in the back of his mind swallowed by the mounting wave of his orgasm. "Vanya, o-oh~" A few strokes of Ivan's hand, and Alfred was finished; he pinned Ivan's hips to him, his own twitching along with his insides. "Vanyaaaa~!" Heat incarnate flooded out of his cock, spraying onto his chest and stomach to join the sweat and the cum already there in a blissful mess. His muscles gave out, but not once did he allow himself to let go of Ivan; his legs remained firmly locked around his body, his arm looped around his neck, his hand held bracingly in Ivan's own.

I'd give anything, anything…

It was hard for Ivan to keep himself from crushing Alfred with his weight; he was shuddering so much it was hard to even thrust. In the end, he buried his face into Alfred's shoulder and ground into him. "Мой F-Fredka…" he gasped, stilling as he filled Alfred up before his limbs finally gave out and he collapsed onto his lover.

No, everything. Because you gave everything to me. Everything, and now I can't even breathe without it, you cunning commie bastard. You've trapped me, and how can I say no?

Ivan was bulky to be sure, but Alfred didn't want him to move, didn't even want to talk. He was content just by feeling their heartbeats sync up, Ivan's heaving chest pushing back against his own, the man's tired breaths against his neck. He curled his fingers into Ivan's hair, holding the man's head to his sweaty chest, and stared up at the ceiling, panting, surprised to find it a bit blurry. His glasses had fallen off sometime during their lovemaking (or had it been before?), and he hadn't even noticed.

Ivan shifted. He pressed a kiss to the hickey he'd made, and Alfred shivered. He pulled out and Alfred inhaled sharply, the Russian managing to roll off of him and grab for a towel. He'd reluctantly removed his hand from Alfred's grasp, but now he wrapped an arm around and underneath the man's head, pulling him close and cleaning up the mess they'd made while his other hand traced the delicate joints of each of Alfred's fingers.

"Mmm." Alfred turned his head to rest his cheek against Ivan's chest, watching Ivan draw the thin towel over his soiled skin, his softening cock. When Ivan's hand dipped lower, Alfred gladly let his legs fall apart so that he could be properly cleaned. Ivan's towel-covered fingers slid into Alfred's crease, rubbing over his raw, leaking hole. Alfred moaned, and Ivan couldn't resist wriggling one of his fingers free from the towel to press at the slick oriface, wanting to plunge it in when he felt it twitch against him, instead choosing to venture higher, to trace over the tender place between Alfred's hole and his balls, rubbing and pressing and making Alfred mewl.

Ivan drew his hand back when Alfred rolled on top of him, smothering his lips with his own before Ivan could so much as grunt in surprise. "Mm, please, more," Alfred said as he abandoned Ivan's mouth to trail kisses down his neck.

Ivan jerked away. "P-please do not touch there."

Alfred blinked at him, appearing a bit hurt. "Why?"

Ivan glanced away, color rising to his cheeks. "Um, i-it's… it's my, um, I do not want to get hard…"

He looked back to see Alfred smiling in disbelief. "You got one too? An erogenous zone?"

"Da. I suppose."

"Here," Alfred said, taking Ivan's hand and guiding it up to his head. "I love when my hair is touched. Especially Nantucket. I could come just from feeling it played with."

Ivan took his hand back and wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Your hair?"

Alfred rolled his eyes and ground down against him, making Ivan expel a startled moan. "Let's do it again. Please?"

Ivan shook his head, hardly able to keep a smile from quirking his lips. "Nyet, Fredka, I do not want you to be too sore to walk."

Alfred pouted. "But—"

"Alfred," Ivan warned sternly.

Alfred huffed, and Ivan suddenly gave a laugh. "We are virgins."

"Uh… what?"

"Love virgins," Ivan expanded, kissing Alfred on the cheek and taking his hand again, stroking the knuckles thoughtfully with his thumb. "We have never loved anyone else before, da? This is our first~"

Alfred shrugged. "Hunh, I guess so." Then he wrinkled his nose. "Jeez, I feel behind."

"Three-hundred years behind," Ivan replied and kissed Alfred's other cheek. "I love you."

Ivan was rewarded with fingers stroking through his hair, twirling a strand around one of the slender digits. "Well, since you did pop my metaphorical cherry…"

"Fredka," Ivan pouted. He didn't want to think about the fact that Alfred might have been with everyone else but him until just recently. It made his heart do funny things.

"I guess I love you too." And he pecked Ivan on the lips. His own felt sore as hell.

Silence stretched on for a minute or so, and Ivan had been studying yet another winding crack in the wall when his eyes returned to Alfred to find the man watching him. "What?"

Alfred broke out into a goofy smile. "You're really cute."

Ivan was taken aback. "What," was his unimpressed deadpan.

"You look sorta like a doll." Alfred pinched Ivan's cheek. "Hehe, chubby cheeks and big round eyes. Except for your nose."

Ivan frowned and demanded, "What about my nose?" He was kind of self-conscious about it. It really did take over his whole face…

"Nothing," Alfred assured. "Just that I wouldn't change it if I could. I wouldn't be able to tell if it was you without it." He kissed the tip of it. "I love it. It's beautiful, just like the rest of you."

Ivan was in the middle of blushing and wondering exactly how he could respond to such a compliment (he'd actually received a compliment), when Alfred shook his head and laughed, "Look at me, being all corny and shit. Sound like a fucking chick—whoa!"

Ivan had rolled them onto their sides, clutching Alfred to him, nuzzling his head and guiding both their bodies into the sleeping bag. Alfred squirmed against him.

"H-hey, I was—"

"Shh. Do not speak."

"Why not?"

"I am just…" Ivan smiled into Alfred's hair, nose buried within, "really happy right now."

Alfred brushed his lips against Ivan's chest, propping his head comfortably beneath his chin. He grew drowsy listening to the steady beating of Ivan's heart. He drifted, Ivan still holding him tight, not caring that they were falling asleep on the floor of a shower room nor that everyone in the whole bunker must have heard them going at it; he just hoped that Ivan's heart would only flutter this way for him and him alone.

I hope you're happy, russki, 'cause for once I can't escape. I don't ever want to this time. You've caught me. I'm yours.

Arthur couldn't sleep. Francis was giggling almost manically into his ear.

"Honhonhonhon~"

"Would you shut up already?" Arthur ground out. They were laying in their cot, bundled in their ratty sleeping bag, and as much as all sense of comfort had been lost to Arthur, he felt it was his obligation to get at least some sleep. Although that was growing ever more and more unlikely, with the way Francis's fingers were thrumming against his stomach, as if itching to reenact what they had just overheard.

"Honhon, I think they are finished," Francis reported.

"Yeah, I can hear that."

Francis silently pondered for a moment. "Alfred has finally submitted."

"How do you know that?"

"His voice," Francis replied simply. "Usually I provoke all of my lovers to make those kinds of noises, but whenever I slept with Alfred, he never made those kinds of—"

Arthur stiffened, horrified. "Another word and I'll rip your balls off and use them for target practice."

Francis nearly jumped away from him. "I-I-I w-was only-ly—"

"Stop sputtering and start sleeping, frog."

Silence followed for a few moments before Francis pulled back close to Arthur and nuzzled his nose into the man's neck. "Je t'aime, tu sais. Seulement toi."

Arthur tried to ignore the odd movement his heart made from hearing the words. "Mmh."

"Have you submitted as well, cher?"

Arthur could feel Francis smiling into his skin, and he scoffed. "I never submit. I conquer."

"For once I am glad to have been conquered," Francis muttered before kissing his lover's shoulder. "Merci, for helping me with my… memories."

Arthur was grateful his back was to Francis; a smile was stretched across his face, a sappy, loving one he would rather die before letting anyone see. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome, love." His hand trailed down to where Francis's was wrapped snugly around his middle, his fingers sliding between those of his partner's as smoothly as reconnecting puzzle pieces.

Translations:

Бог, ты прекрасна-God, you're beautiful

Я тоже тебя люблю-I love you too

Я тебя очень люблю-I love you very much

моя любовь-my love

говоришь, что любишь меня. Мой Fredka-say you love me. My Fredka.

Je t'aime, tu sais. Seulement toi-I love you, you know. Only you.

A Word From the Writer: Okay, so I don't get myself. I loathe all that romantic shit, but then I write this. Guess Hetalia is exempt from that. Anyway, yeah, they got back together but that was only expected right? It was so cute, and I just had to add the little pet name. By far one of the fluffiest things I've written. Russia was a little softie, hehe. Do you think America gets it now or what? He'd be an asshole to back out now, but, seeing as I'm the writer, that won't be happening. Then you got the little passive-aggressive/fluffy FrUK at the end. And of course France has screwed pretty much everyone and likes to brag about it. England has been particularly cruel with his threats to France's balls lately... but hey if it all works out it'll be considered spousal abuse, am I right? X3

*Another note, online translators are sketchy, so if anything doesn't make sense be sure to hit me up.

So... I kind of got overzealous with the lemon here. I always like a little lemon before my violence (coughignorethebadtimingcoughcough) It continues~!