Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, I just own an unhealthy devotion to France as a nation and its history. English is not my mother language and neither is French, any constructive criticism is appreciated.

Warnings: Constructive criticism doesn't mean hate or gratuitous insults, so please: don't like, don't read.

Notes: August has been very productive in the fruk server, especially in the nsfw section. Credits for the hair job idea to Kris.

In sickness and in hair

England was sitting alone in his dining room, having a tea to calm down the turmoil he was feeling. If he had to pick a prevalent emotion, he wouldn't be able to do so, because everything felt too strong and too overwhelming to make a proper list.

First would probably be shame, because he had been left at the altar in front of all of their friends. Well, to be fair, both he and France had left at the same time, but still, it wasn't how he had planned for their wedding to go. Anger would be a close second, because he had spent a lot of time and effort to make it wonderful and perfect just as France would have liked it.

Then he could probably pick hurt, because no matter France's reasons, he had eventually decided not to follow through with their marriage. Next to that he would pick deception, because if things had gone to the worst when he had finally built some balls to actually ask France's hand in marriage, then what should he think about all the times France had proposed to him? Were those all lies?

The sole thought that France had indeed played with his feelings the whole time made him feel as if he had something stuck in his throat that he couldn't swallow.

Why had he needed an unexpected refusal to acknowledge how much he cared about France? Would have things gone differently, if he had said yes to France when he had first asked him?

As he fought not to cry, he heard a knock on his door. The fleeting distraction made few treacherous tears falling down his cheeks, so he hastened to dry them with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm coming!" He swore against himself as soon as he heard his voice coming out raspy, sign that he had been much closer to openly cry than he had imagined.

He swallowed then, and took a deep breath, hoping to be able to show himself normal enough to whomever was outside. After all, the only one who had an actual chance to see through his façades was France, the last person he was expecting to come at his place that night.

He opened the door offering to his guest an annoyed smirk, but his mask fell in a matter of seconds, as soon as his eyes met with two very blue ones.

Fuck.

"Hi Angleterre..." France offered with the lowest and most unsure voice he had ever heard. "I was wondering... May I come in?"

"Didn't you already do enough today?" England felt his whole body tremble, but if he asked himself why, he wouldn't be able to answer. "Or should I say, not do."

"I- I wanted to talk to you about that, to be fair... I- I don't want you to overthink it too much. I know that you easily do that."

"You left me at the altar. You have little ground to play the worried childhood friend right now."

"I was here to play the lover, not the childhood friend. To be honest."

It was only then that England noticed that everything in France's mannerism said that he was feeling as uncomfortable as he felt, and way less smug than what he would have imagined. Most of what he was feeling before dimmed at the sight of him looking so shy and meek, leaving England with only the love he felt for the other nation.

Regretfully.

"Come in, then."

France stared up in shock at his words, apparently not really expecting England to accept him in his home after the failed wedding ordeal. He looked furtively around himself as to find a reason for such unexpected kindness, and then stared back at England, visibly unsure about what to do.

England sighed, but he honestly knew that he had only himself to blame for France's reactions to him being proactive. Hell, if he had to admit it openly, he knew that telling France that he actually wanted to marry him would have scared away the other nation: what had happened was wholly predictable. He took his hands in his, then, and lead him slowly inside, taking care to allow France all the time he needed to actually find the courage to come inside.

France's hands trembled, and each of his steps was slow and unsure. More than punching him in revenge, all England wanted to do now was to hold him in his arms and tell him that everything was still fine between them. He would have liked to address his current feelings to the fact that he was not only France's lover but also his childhood friend, still he knew that it would have been a lie. Because nothing of what he was feeling now was even remotely similar to friendship.

Unwilling to leave him standing up in the middle of the room, he lead France to the couch on the side and helped him sitting down next to him. As soon as he complied with England's offer, though, France was quick turning away from England, looking at everything that wasn't him.

"I- I'm so sorry that I couldn't do it." He blurted out after a few moments of silence, his voice sounding utterly terrified. "I- I have no idea... I mean, I..." He sighed, and then he bent over his legs, his eyes shut close as he swallowed visibly. "I'm so fucking sorry!"

England sighed and rested a hand over his shoulder, his heart feeling as if a pin had just stabbed it.

"It's not your fault, if you don't like me enough to actually marry me. It's my fault to believe-"

"Don't even say something like this!" France hastily interrupted, suddenly turning to face him and firmly grab his shoulders. "I want to marry you! I swear that I do, I can't imagine my life without you! I love you... I literally have no meaning if we aren't together!"

"Then why couldn't you do it?"

"I..." It just took one question to make France losing all of his drive again, and he immediately looked down at his thighs, fearful of England's judgement. "It was too much to showcase in front of the others. I mean, for them everything was a joke, for me it wasn't. I didn't want to choose between keeping up appearances and admitting how much it meant to me. The first would have ruined a moment meant to be special, the second would have made us an easy target."

A long silence followed, so deep that eventually after a while France dared to look up to get any indication about England's feelings. Unfortunately, though, his expression was completely blank and unreadable to him too.

"Angleterre?"

"We are stronger than everyone else together." England's voice betrayed quite a lot of anger, but as France tried to say something in his defence England just continued. "You asked me to marry publicly first! I thought that's what you wanted!"

"I- I'm sorr-"

"Hell, France! I was always the one saying that things could have very well remained the same between us, you were the one pushing for more! And now you are saying that you are fine with leaving things the way they are as well? After all the times you tried to marry me!? And even worse, for reasons so stupid like what the others think or getting in danger!? Who the hell do you think we are!?"

"We're not really the owners of the world or normal peopl-"

"Weren't you the country of love? You look more the country of political machinations to me right now!" England regretted his words as soon as they had left his mouth, even more so as he saw France's eyes glistening with tears as he stared at him completely petrified. "France, I-"

"Sorry if I came here..." France tried to stand up, but England was quick holding him tight to keep him sitting on the couch. "I just wanted to tell you that I love you, but-"

"I love you too, you dumbass." England held him tighter as he felt him struggling in his arms, waiting until France relaxed and he could drag him closer. "I'm sorry, I let frustration having the best of me. It's just... I really thought that it was what you wanted."

"I do! I still want it, I just... I don't know how to get it without making a fool of us both."

England sighed and started caressing France's hair to calm them down, as he thought about a way to reassure him that everything would be all right.

"I wouldn't mind making a fool of myself with you in front of the others." He said eventually, making some space between the two of them to take France's hands in his, his eyes staring down at them. "That's what I was trying to tell you, trying to marry you in front of everyone."

"Angleterre, I..."

"I've been scared all of my life of what people thought, that's why I always avoided showing too much how deeply I cared about you." England swallowed, but still didn't dare to look up at France. "That's why you saying that you couldn't marry me hurt so much."

"But I- I can't let you do something so stupid..." France's voice was close to break. "It's all fine and dandy, if the others see how much I want to be with you, but you wanting me-"

"What would the difference be?" England looked up and found France's blue eyes staring straight back at him. "I do want you too, in any means possible. Hiding gets tiring in the long run."

"So I ruined everything for nothing..." France swallowed and laughed nervously. "I just wanted to protect you."

"This means that next marriage proposal is up to you." England chuckled, his cheeks turning extremely red. "Or we can finally plan it together, now that we are both on the same page."

"Maybe something private, for a start?" France offered England his first real smile of the evening, blushing visibly no differently than his lover. "Like this, we can take our time to sort out our feelings and adapt to our new life."

"I'd like it like this. I know a little place with a stunning garden far away from the big cities..." England proposed, by then feeling completely embarrassed. "I doubt someone will ever find us there."

"I wouldn't mind having a look at it..." France started fidgeting with England's hand, unsure of what could be a nice proposal to make. "I salvaged the dresses! I could turn them a bit more sober... Like, I thought about foregoing the veil this time."

France's proposal made England blush harder, but if he had to be honest, that wasn't the only thing that had become harder on him at the mention of France marrying without a fucking veil.

The point was that England had a thing for France's hair that dated back from when he was a child and had tried to copy his hairstyle. France had told him that he looked the best with his normal haircut, though, and since they became an item England could get enough of France's hair without needing to replicate them on himself – something that however would need France to happen.

France knew that, this was why he was probably offering England the chance to enjoy on their wedding day those cherished touches and caresses that were usually reserved for when they were alone together. It was romantic and made England feel all giddy inside, sure, but he had also actually started the day hoping to be brought back home bridal style by France and then to have their wedding night.

Things had gone differently, sure, but France had eventually brought himself to his place, and now that they had a plan to follow for the wedding, nothing stopped them to celebrate their marriage... even if it was yet to come.

"You know... about your hair..."

"You don't like them anymore?"

"No! I meant that... you have really nice hair."

"Well, thank you. You-"

"My point is. They are really... well kept."

"Wait, is it a compliment or an insult?"

"It's a statement."

"What's the statement?"

"It's..." England by the end of it was dark red, fighting with himself for a way to utter his request despite the overwhelming shame in doing so. "Hair." He eventually blurted out defeated, hoping for France to use his knowledge of him to link the dots by himself.

France only stared down at his shirt's neckline, which was low enough to show some of his hairy chest.

"Ah! I didn't realise it could be bothersome since we are still fighting."

If the wall were closer, England would have gladly banged his forehead against it. France was cute, handsome, smart even... but really, sometimes he couldn't get a clue even if it was slammed into his face. Sure, the fact that England used the same clues for different reasons –asking for sex, declaring war, demanding him to talk or shut up, asking him to hand over the salt...- didn't help France most of the times, but it was his problem to solve, not England's. England didn't choose to put up with himself, France did.

"France. We're talking about our wedding, I wouldn't say that we are still fighting." England sighed. "Unless you were planning to get back to the public display of love option."

"Please no! I already have enough of Prussia calling me Francis Kirkland."

"Wait, is this why you ruined our wedding!?"

"Hardly. He's calling me that since we were teenagers."

"France. When you guys were teenagers, I was little more than a child and we weren't together." France blushed heavily at England's words, making him roll his eyes. "France!?"

"It's not really my fault, if you were cute already..." France mumbled in a barely audible tone. "Might have accidentally said it out aloud."

England sighed, forsaking himself once again for falling for someone as random as France was. Still, he was sweet and cute, gave wonderful blowjobs and -most important of it all- had the prettiest hair he had ever seen.

"Can we get back to the original topic?"

"The private wedding?" France was quick catching the assist, hoping to leave behind the embarrassing topic. "Can we have it soon?"

"We can have it tomorrow for all I care. I was ready to marry you today." England tried to leave frustration behind and focus back on trying to drag France to the mood with him. "The important topic was: hair."

"What about my hair?"

"Well... They are a topic on their own"

"Mon dieu, you're starting to really suck at giving insults."

England gave up completely on being subtle, deciding that if he really wanted to get laid he had to be a bit more explicit about his desires.

"It wasn't an insult. I meant that your hair is so long and smooth. I want to wrap it around my dick."

"WHAT!?"

"C'mon, I was the good lover today and did my best to marry you! I also sung your bloody excuse for a song together with you. I do deserve a tiny reward."

"I do things for you every day of my life! My entire agenda is literally me doing things for you!"

"Hey, I do the same! I'm just subtler than you are! You are like an elephant crushing down a glass shop, when your feelings are involved!"

"So, are you asking for a prize because for once you were less subtle showing that you care?"

"What I'm trying to say is." England took a deep breath and lowered his eyes a bit. "Can I put my dick in your hair again?"

"Don't you remember how much you messed it up last time!?"

"Please..."

"No."

"Oral afterwards?" England studied carefully France's posture, and deemed him just about to crack but not entirely. "Besides, you owe me a newlywed night."

"Fine." England cheered of joy and France sighed, as he passed his hands in his hair to check that they were still proper and smooth. The gesture caught immediately England's attention, and he mouth gaped at the sight. "Quite eager, are we?"

"Bloody hell, you have no idea how much I wanted to have all of this officially signed off only for me." England breathed, letting his finger run over France's soft beard as he leaned closer to him. "Even if we will marry tomorrow, it will be too many centuries too late."

"Oh, so was it lust making you eventually capitulate?" France teased. "I should have taken note of that."

France brought his lips a few inches from England's, only to stop to let their breaths mingle, making England tremble in anticipation.

"Like you didn't know already."

England quickly closed the gap and kissed France with all he had, allowing the hand on France's beard to take a firmer grasp of his jaw as his free hand threaded freely through France's hair. The reaction was instantaneous, and he was glad that France's mouth easily swallowed his moan of pleasure.

He took his time to explore freely France's wet cavern, trace the waves of his palate and the clean shape of his teeth, enjoying his lover's shudders of pleasure and surprise as he tried everything that crossed his mind without any real plan. Something that left France completely lost in his feelings.

Despite calling himself the only country of love, France was also a man of plans, opposed to England, who was instead a man of impulse. Their different attitudes frustrated the both of them to no end, but also excited them and made the one strictly depended on the other.

Wanting to give back as much as he was receiving, France eventually bit down on England's lower lip, sending jolts of pleasure throughout England's body. He moaned again inside France's mouth, and then decided to up the ante, straddling the older nation to have better access to his whole body.

He caressed his shoulders and forearms, enjoying the soft skin over his well-built muscles, and then started to open up his shirt, wanting to touch more of that body he had known and loved for so many centuries. As the kiss grew eager and needy, bites, nibs, kisses and licks mixed so much that none of them could understand what they were doing anymore. The only thing clear in their minds was the need to get more from the other and to give back as much pleasure as they received, in order to mend the gap that the failed marriage had created between them.

"Shall we move to the bedroom?" England asked eventually, only then feeling the tingly taste of copper on his tongue. "So we can put your beautiful hair to good use."

"I have something to show you first, and I hope you will like it." France teased, his breath already ragged. "I came prepared to make amend."

England swallowed, his mind filling with so many different ways in which France could make amend.

"Can't wait to see it..." England leaned over France to leave a chaste peck on his lips, then stood up and took France's hands in his, leading him purposefully towards his bedroom.

As soon as they were inside, France used his leverage to push lightly England on the bed, before taking off both his shoes and socks, as he got ready for a little striptease. Quickly guessing what France was up to, England moved up the bed, so that he could rest his back on the headboard and watch comfortably the show.

France wasn't wearing much, only a light shirt and a pair of trousers, but the slow and teasing movement of his fingers on the buttons as he was opening his shirt was already enough to make England feeling his pants painfully tight on him. He hastily got rid of them then, and since he was already at it, he threw also his shirt together with them on the floor.

He quickly sat back wearing only his boxers, his hands already over his dick, ready to pleasure himself as the show moved on.

"Ready to see something nice?" France teased, as he finally finished with the last button and took the hem of his shirt to peel it gently off his skin.

"Damn, France, I know every inch of your body already, you are not-" The words stopped in his throat, as the shirt revealed something colourful instead of France's naked skin.

As the white cotton slipped further down France's skin, it revealed a transparent violet corset with two fleurs de lys embroiled over his nipples. The sight was mouth-watering, but even more than that, it was the anticipation for what would be hidden beneath France's pants what made him harden the most.

His hand grabbed firmly his dick, and he had to fight with himself not to start without France. Not that it would be a problem per se, he knew that France would only gloat about his performance, if he were to make England come without his touch, but England had made a point to at least come on France's hair.

His best option would have been escaping unscathed both the strip tease and the hair job to come together with his lover, but since his lover was France, he had never kept his expectations too high. As far as the only repercussion was France giggling and cuddling close to him, though, coming first or too fast was a shame he could endure.

"I take it that you like what I prepared for you."

"One day you will have to tell me why you look so good dressed as a woman."

France chuckled and England groaned in answer to it. He eventually decided that a couple of pulls on his hard dick wouldn't bring many consequences, but had soon to reconsider his idea, as he felt himself barely able to stop and wanting for more. And this only thanks to a bit of making out and a strip tease.

What would his ancestors say about him, if they knew he was getting so quickly worked up by a Frenchman?

"I'll let you know that this might look like woman's lingerie, but it's custom made to fit me personally." France blushed and averted his eyes, his hand sliding down across his flat chest to slide inside his trousers. "I had our wedding night in mind when I made this, but I think that the night before the wedding could work well as well."

France's voice drowned out in England's ears, as he focussed completely on his hand finding its way inside his trousers. France palmed himself a couple of times and his breath hitched together with England's, who had been mimicking his gestures without even noticing.

As France slowly let his trousers slid off his hips, he revealed that he was wearing a pair of slip as transparent and violet as the corset, and with the same fleur de lys embroidery on its front. Little could the needlework and the scarce fabric do to hide France's cock from England's hungry eyes, something that only turned England on even more.

"I'm starting to think that we could elope the day after tomorrow..." England groaned, hardly managing to keep control of his own breathing and even less of his own desires. "Showing all my appreciation for what you are wearing will need to take its time."

"Ah? Really?" France giggled and struck a pose that stole England's breath away. "I still didn't show you the best of this outfit."

He turned on his heels enough to show his backside to England, revealing that his pair of slip were indeed a thong. There was nothing cladding France's perfect ass: it was there, ready for England to worship it at his leisure. The thin purple string between his butt cheeks was barely visible, but it divided his full moon into two perfect halves, enhancing their round shape even more.

If he could, England would just close the little space between them and drag his lover on the bed with him to finally have him in any –quick- way that crossed his mind, but, as things stood, he was painfully hard, so he just stared mouth gaping at the beauty he had the luck to snatch for himself.

"You really planned it perfectly. Even if I were still mad at you, there's no way I could keep it up."

France smirked smugly back at England seeing how well his little plan has been received, but he couldn't hide a last hint of bashfulness, still lingering after all that had happened that day.

"I wanted to be sure that I wouldn't lose you." France admitted, as he walked slowly towards the bed before getting on all fours on it. "I had to use everything in my power, and my best assets is undeniably my body."

He quickly closed the gap between them and sat close to England, searching for his eyes to have some confirmation that he could proceed with their plan.

"You really are an idiot." England took France's jaw in his hands and leaned close as he stared deep into his soul. He could see uncertainty there, fear, guilt, lust...All feelings England himself knew too well, but that he didn't absolutely want to belong to France -lust aside. His France had to be cheerful and teasing, a gem shining bright only for him to admire it. "You are so much more than your body."

He took his lips into another kiss then, this time sweet and caring, meant to show him all the love he hadn't dared to show in front of the other nations. Only when he felt France melt completely in his arms he let him go, and was rewarded with a bright smile that alone made up for everything he had endured that day.

"Thank you." He lowered a bit his eyes, blushing in embarrassment.

Realising his previous moment of weakness, France coughed and threaded his fingers through his hair to check that the making out hadn't tangled it. Deeming it perfect as he had just styled it, he moved some over his shoulder and then crawled between England's legs, lying prone on the mattress.

He snorted with disappointment as he found himself face to face with England's boxers, and he quickly got rid of those. He took a moment to fully appreciate the already hard shaft, taking it in his hand and savouring its texture under his fingers: the soft skin, the engorged veins, the light stickiness where the pale droplets of precum had already slid down.

England took in the sight in front of him and instinctively let a hand rest behind France's head.

"God, you are beautiful."

"I don't think you can do much with your hand there." France chuckled. "But don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

He took a tuff of hair in his hand and used it as a paintbrush, trying at first to tease all the little swellings of England's dick and balls with the soft and teasing tip. As soon as he felt him answering to his ministrations, he switched to brushing it in larger strokes that made England shuddering and tightening his hand on his hair.

Taking it as a good sign, France tried to bring over his shoulder the better part of his hair, and purposefully let it fall freely over England's cock. He then closed his hand around it -trapping his hair around the hard shaft- and started to slowly move his hand up and down, bringing his hair together with it.

England hissed at the sensation, and used the leverage he had on France to make enough space between the two of them to watch him –and his hand- better. France was more than eager to give him a better view, so he eventually stopped his hand job to wrap his hair around England's dick, letting his head rest against the inside of England's thigh.

He resumed working his hair up and down England's shaft and his name left England's lips, as he licked them wet while he tried to get some needed air into his lungs. Loving how well England was reacting to his own weird request, France decided to up the ante and let the handful of hair he was using to masturbate England to tease also his head and slit. The sensation elicited a string of profanities from the British nation, who eventually bit his own hand not to come all over France's hair.

A hair job wasn't supposed to feel this good, still the raspy texture and France's hair unique softness were easily making him loose his mind.

"Ah~ Fuck France, this is awesome~" England moaned eventually, shutting his eyes close to savour the sensation better. "Keep it going, please~"

France was eager to comply, speeding his hand around the hard shaft and teasing his head with expertise. He was so close to England's dick that he could smell his scent's subtle changes, as he became more and more aroused. It slowly made him flustered so he mouthed England's dick over his hair as his other hand slipped down between his legs, palming his own cock enough to wet it with his precum. He then moved his hand down to tease his own balls, already painfully full, letting his middle finger slid between them before he moved lower to tease his perineum. The feeling made him moan against his hair and England's sensitive flesh, making his lover pleading for more.

He then carefully brought his hair up enough to cover his head again and gave a few tentative licks on the tip before starting to suck on it through his hair. England swore loudly, but as his hand tightened painfully in France's hair, he could just acknowledge that France hadn't been wrong saying that he couldn't do much. Everything was so fucking pleasurable, but he had to admit that his request had easily left all the power in France's hand.

As if he needed any more than he already had.

It was only when he dared to open his eyes again -as soon as France's needy moan reached his ears- that England noticed that at least France didn't fare better than he did. He licked his lips once more seeing France's pleasuring himself as he was sucking on his own pretty hair, leaving them glistening on the dim light of the room.

"France, could you move up here? Let me finish inside you."

France let out a questioning moan at first, but both England's cock and his hair muffled it. The vibrations of it reverberated against England's dick, making him shudder in pleasure and soil France's beautiful hair with his white semen. It was only by sheer will that he stopped himself from coming, even though he had to acknowledge that he might not be able to resist for much longer.

Eventually France unwrapped his hair from around England's dick, taking only a moment to look in disgust at the state they were in. It was nothing that couldn't be salvaged, though, and if his hair were the price to pay to keep England, he would very well endure the distress. He proceeded to do as he was told then, and straddled one of England's legs, before stretching out to get the lube over the nightstand.

"Will you prepare me or should I do the job on my own?"

"Give it here."

England snatched the bottle from France's hand, annoyed by the smug expression on his face, and opened hastily the cap to pour some on his hand. The operation was much more difficult that he had planned, since his hands trembled and slipped around the edges.

Eventually he uncorked it open, and embraced France's waist to drag him closer and bury his face into his flat and hairy chest. He felt his chest hair teasing the tip of his nose as he took a deep sniff of France's very masculine scent, and for a moment he damned France's lingerie to not allowing him the chance to savour his tasty skin.

He started to kiss and nibble France's nipples through the see-through fabric then, hoping to bring France closer to his edge, while he let his now wet finger inside him. A moan reached his ears, but too late he acknowledged that it was his own.

"Arthur?"

The hint of doubt in France's voice made England looking up at him, allowing him to notice the deep desire in his eyes. Desire that quickly made his cock twitch in answer.

Fuck, he wasn't going to survive this.

He swallowed then, and helped France to rest on his back, hoping that a bit of distance between them could help him get a hold of his wits. As he leaned over him to resume opening him up, though, he had to come to terms that eye contact didn't make it any better than holding him in his arms.

He tried nonetheless, hissing as he felt France's muscles tightening delightfully around his fingers. He did his best to finger him open, but France still felt too tight and he too close to come, so when a soft moan left eventually France's lips, England could only capitulate.

"F- France?"

"Hmmn?"

"You know..." He let out a nervous laugh and he averted his eyes in embarrassment. "Would you mind, you know, finish preparing yourself on your own?"

"Oh? You are really going full pervert tonight."

It took more than it was supposed to for England to realise that France believed that he was asking for another show. He then thanked God for France's naiveté, and just laughed nervously again.

"S-sure! Ha ha... J- Just please, make it quick."

"Quick, mon amour?" France teased cheekily, stretching to get the lube without even sitting up, and thus giving England a full view of his perfect body. "Don't worry, I don't need time to rile you up."

Unfortunately, England had to admit that France wasn't bragging at all. The fact the he had been riled up only with a kiss made the additional striptease and hair job already sheer cruelty.

"S- sure, but, you know... What about you?" England tried again, his eyes glued on France's hands as he lubed both of them up, before sliding one inside his thong to take out his already throbbing erection. France reached behind himself with the other, then, easily working around the string to resume the job England couldn't comply. "Wouldn't you want... Uhm... To. Come."

As he noticed France already upping the ante adding a third finger inside himself, England couldn't suppress a groan at the sight. He looked more than ready to come no differently than him, already closing his eyes to enjoy fully the feeling of fullness he was giving himself and the well desired friction on his too long neglected cock.

His whimpers and barely suppressed groans went straight to England's cock, and he leaned more over France to look at him better and get more of him, of his smell, of his voice. Fleeting jealousy crossed his mind as he wondered, for a brief moment, if France was willingly shutting him out closing his eyes, but before he could plea for him to watch him again, his name came out of France's lips in a soft whisper.

"Ahn... Angleterre..."

"Why won't you look at me, if you're thinking about me?"

France swallowed and slowly opened his eyes, only to shudder visibly as soon as they met with England's piercing green ones.

"Because I... I'm the worst friend of all." France's voice wavered much more than what England had expected, considering that he had barely touched him at all. "I look at you, and all I want is for you to tell me that we will never be apart. And then my dick throbs and my underwear becomes wet... and there's little I can do to keep a hold of myself."

England blinked at the blunt confession, feeling like an idiot for all the doubts he still couldn't get rid of, and impulsively threw himself over France to hold him tight.

"An-Angleterre?"

France let himself go to hold England back, despite feeling a bit awkward trying not to stain him too much with his hands, still sticky from lube and precum. Not that England had cared much about that until now.

"I thought I was the only one feeling like this." He rose himself on his elbows and raised France's chin with the tip of his index finger, to make him stare properly in his eyes. "You have no idea how this makes me feel."

"It's good that I'm already lying on the bed..." France smirked hesitantly. "My knees would have given away. You are looking at me like there's only us in the word."

"As it should be."

England closed the gap between their lips and kissed him chastely as he got more comfortable between France's legs to finally enter him. He skimmed quickly his hands over his scantily clothed waist before sliding them down his naked hips to reach behind him, between the mattress and his lover, and cup his perfect ass with desire. He carefully moved aside the string with one hand, while with the other he lubed the best he could his own cock before guiding it finally inside France.

France groaned at the intrusion, and England took his chance to deepen the kiss, hoping that his kissing technique was good enough to erase any potential hurt or discomfort he could feel. France barely attempted to fight for dominance, so England quickly took over the kiss, turning it into a mess of tongues and bites that barely allowed them any room to think.

Tentatively, England started moving... And soon his mind became blank, overcome by the intense pleasure he was feeling. France had been far from ready apparently, but the few whimpers escaping the Frenchman's lips sounded more akin to pleasure than to pain.

"Ahn-Angleterre..."

"Are you all right?"

France swallowed and tried to speak, but he felt obviously too unsure of his voice to answer aloud. He nodded then, and to make his desire clearer, he wrapped his legs around England's waist.

That was all the encouragement England needed to start thrusting in earnest inside his lover. His breath became ragged as it mingled with his own moans of pleasure and his pleads for France. What was he even asking him? He could be chanting his name or asking him to never let him go or demand for France to comply with his darkest desires, but France was too far-gone to even understand his pleasure induced ramblings.

Thanks to God.

The soft whimpers and the breathy calls of his name weren't enough to satisfy England, though, so he soon upped the ante, slamming with even more energy inside France as he grabbed a firm hold of his cock to masturbate him in time with his thrusts. That finally stole from France's lips a soft cry of ecstasy, soon followed by the sweet moans England wanted to hear. Those soft sweet moans that only him was allowed to hear from the cunning devil beneath him.

Before long, France finally came with his name on his lips, barely able to turn his cry into a more composed groan, leaving to England no other choice than pulling out of him, in order not to hurt him in the aftermath. He sat back to finish himself quickly, barely noticing how France had moved back in front of him.

He understood what had happened only when he opened his eyes again, and instead of a sullied bedcover to clean, his eyes met with the sight of France removing a droplet of his come from his violet corset with the tip of his finger before bringing it to his lips. If such a thing were possible, the sight would have made him hard again.

"I'm a complete mess already, I thought you would have liked the sight."

"You are the devil." England breathed, lying next to France to hold his waist and kiss him again. "I'm glad that you are my devil, though."

"Your devil needs a shower." France chuckled, enveloping England in his strong arms. "And a wedding ring. How come we never thought about those?"

"Because I've several to choose from, from my pirate days." England snorted, feeling sleep already threatening to claim him. "Is there anything else left to plan for our wedding?"

France smiled adoringly at England, waiting for his breath to even out before hugging him closer.

"All that's left to do is to ring the bell."

The end