Regarding 400 follower requests! I'll need some time to get the Dragon Age requests done, then I'll post an update for the next request session. I'm thinking I'll need a couple weeks before then, just to keep you all updated. Also I need time to make it as epic as possible ;)

Monday, March 21, 2011

A France Lemon -- City Of Love

Character: France

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

OC: Amara Beilschmidt, represents Rugen district of Germany

Inspiration: Paris~


I didn’t really feel like getting out of bed. The thought of staying warm and sleepy was very appealing to me. I only wished the man beside me felt the same way, though I really couldn’t complain. (His kisses were better than sleep any day.)

“Francis, stop...” I murmured halfheartedly, trying to roll out of his grasp. But he was too strong (and I didn’t have enough willpower) and he only brought me closer to him in response.

Lips nibbling delicately at my neck, I was in heaven, and the thought of sleep was slowly becoming dimmer and dimmer. France made a pleased noise against my neck and sighed, a soft smile overcoming his features, “So beautiful~”

I felt myself giggling, and then suddenly I was on my back and Francis was getting rougher and more dominant, and I still couldn’t complain.

His hands were all over me, and my body was reacting in an utmost intrinsic way. Mewing and scratching and arching and whining. Francis adored it.

“You know...” he grunted, pulling from his lingering kiss to stare into my eyes, “I wouldn’t mind having you as my permanent lover.”

I couldn’t smile, because my face was far too gone with pleasure to allow such things. So I responded to his words by pushing my breasts farther into his hands and moaning when he kissed me again.

France liked to tease me, and I liked it when he did. Except sometimes, I was so immersed in lust I had to complain.

“Francis...please...” my weak voice began, but was drowned out by another moan as France’s lips found my breasts.

His hands flitted over my back, squeezing my waist and hips before trailing around my thighs. He always missed the most important area, however; the part of me that needed his touch the most.

Hair splayed out on the pillow beneath me, I could hardly pay any attention to the room that spiraled about our heads. All I knew was that I was laying on red silk sheets and there was a half empty bottle of wine on the bedside table. And also, of course, my lover towering above me, kissing and groping and pleasing.

“Please?” he murmured against my breast, and moved slightly away to look up at me with a sly grin, “I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate on that. I don’t know what you mean.”

Another thing about France was his undying obsession to make me beg. He did every single night we were together, and it was never the other way around. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to stop the moan that bubbled in my throat.

Needless to say, I could not, and it sprung from my lips in a loud, callous way that made France shiver. He trailed his lips back up to mine and sunk into another kiss. Once he’d pulled away, I was breathless and flustered. He only grinned at my powerless demeanor.

I tangled my fingers into his hair, pulling his lips back to mine, “Fuck me. Please fuck me, Francis.”

He made a pleased sound against my lips and breathed, “Who am I to turn down a beautiful woman?” and with that, his grip on my waist became ever tighter and he rubbed against my opening.

I gasped at the sweet feeling, for he was harder than I’d anticipated. He loved when I begged, but it usually took a bit more effort for him to be this excited. I pressed against him and whispered, “Oh God...” just before he slid into me.

He filled me up so completely my body jerked wildly beneath his. He chuckled and drew himself out slowly, tantalizingly, before ramming back into me. And so it started.

The bed was rocking, banging into the wall. The room seemed to get dimmer and dimmer, until the only thing I could see was the blissful twist of Francis’s face, and the glimmer of his lusting eyes. The wine was long forgotten; it sat upon the table looking out of place beside the two lovers.

My fingers twitched, and I clutched at the sheets languidly as France continued to shift in and out of me at a rapid pace. It was phenomenal, and amazing, and pure.

“Amara...” he groaned, tilting my hips upward and hitting an area that sent shivers rolling down my body. I moaned loudly and brought him close into a passionate kiss.

We shared our breaths. So close we were that all we could do now was stare into each other’s eyes and wait for the extreme pleasure to come.

It came rather quickly, forcing our bodies to react together as though in a dance. Gripping onto each other, we rode out our orgasms until we were liberated from the amazing feelings jolting about us.

When it was all over, the only thing that could be heard was heavy panting. France had pulled out of me and collapsed beside me on the bed, and I was snuggling into the crook of his neck. He pulled me close and whispered, almost non coherently, “J’adore toi, amara.”

I smiled softly and kissed his chest, “Mmm...I love you too, Francis.”


~~~

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