Wednesday, February 5, 2014

A France Lemon -- Flyaway

Character: France

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: Jane, a student, a bit of a tease, somewhat pessimistic

Inspiration: AU -- France is Jane's teacher.  They get into an argument during class and he asks her to stay after. ;3

He looks at her from over thick rimmed glasses with an air of serious intelligence.  She stares at the tip of his nose because she can't bear to meet his eyes.  The classroom door is tightly shut, like a vacuum that sucks the world away.  There is only the ticking of the clock, the smooth wood beneath her fingertips, the rabid swell of her heart.  There is only him.
"Do you know why I asked you to stay after class?" he asks her.  He is not blind to the fact that she hasn't met his eyes once since she'd sat down.  He is aware of many things, in fact.  Some of which he would rather not notice but does, can't help it, isn't able to stop the way his eyes always finds her amid the sea of his other students.  He watches her swallow, her throat convulsing, her eyes wavering.  She still doesn't look at him.
"Well do you?" he asks a little louder, like he's angry.  Maybe he is.  It's hard to tell when his heart is pounding like a rocket against his chest.  She almost flinches but she doesn't cause she's strong, one of the things he likes about her.  She clears her throat like she's trying to dispel all her fear at once, then answers, "It must be because we had a disagreement."  And the candid, stoic nature of her words make him grit his teeth and lean forward.
"It must be," he says quietly, dangerously, like a sea bursting with gray storm clouds.  Francis has always prided himself with being controlled but she takes all of that control away and makes him crack, as shattered ice would crack and spindle and weave over a lake.  "But you know…disagreements are only fun when argued.  Don't you think?"  He is slowly standing and she is watching him and when he starts pulling off the two rings he wears, Jane doesn't know what to think.  Only that the sound of metal dropping on wood matches the sound of her heart dropping to her feet.
"It was stupid!" she says before she can stop herself.  He pauses and she feels an overwhelming sense of shame filter over her.  "The argument was stupid.  I don't know why…I said those things.  I'm sorry, Mr. Bonnefoy."  But he only scoffs and tilts his head to the side.  She stares at the blackboard behind him and he stares at the way she's pulling, biting, worrying at her lip. 
"You're sorry?  Don't be.  You only stated your opinion on Byron's work.  It isn't like I care if you have a problem with the literary curriculum."  This time she does flinch and Francis feels a little bit sorry for it.  His face softens and he sighs, sitting back down in his chair.  "Jane.  Come here."
She peers up at him and he nearly cries out in relief when she finally meets his eyes.  "Sir?" she wonders in confusion.  He gestures her to hurry up and she stands, walks around his desk, and waits for him to tell her what he wants.  She is not expecting him to stand up and step closer to her, close enough to feel the heat of his body and the waver of his breath and the brush of his clothes against her arm.  She holds her breath.
"The real reason I called you here wasn't to scold you, though I did find your analysis on Byron to be somewhat lacking."  He raises a hand and pushes away a flyaway strand of her hair.  She stares at his mouth, which seems to be drawing her in like a magnet would draw in another of its kind.  She can't stop the pull or change the way the ions of her body pull her closer, closer.  Francis follows her head as it tilts back, and whispers into the space between their arching mouths, "You think I don't notice the way you look at me?  You think I wouldn't have a reaction to your attention?"  She breathes out and he swallows her breath.  He wants to swallow the rest of her but he won't make the final move that would seal such a fate.  The barriers between them are stiff, unyielding, and it is her job to decide if they should be broken.  She ultimately makes the choice he yearns for, though perhaps not the better of the two.
"You noticed but you didn't do anything?" she breaths, trembling, and he chuckles.  "What do you think I'm doing right now?" is all he answers with, and she is drawn further still, the magnetism a lost struggle tempered with the in betweens and the whys.  Their lips drag against each other and it is like a harsh scrape, like pavement.  Then they seem to sink into each other, clutching the other closer, not quite believing that this moment is actually happening, actually real and not a figment of a dream.
"You do realize I still have to punish you," Francis says against her mouth, and the moment shatters into something much more exciting.  Anticipation hurtles through Jane and she draws away, lips bruised to perfection, eyes a wild mess of matted desire.  She watches her teacher lean against his desk, smile a mischievous little smile, and gesture for her to come closer.  "But first…you should know there isn't going back from this point on."  She smiles a mischievous smile of her own and breathes, "…I know."  And she watches the pleased way Francis' eyes light up when he hears her voiced consent.
"Then you'd better come over here and receive your punishment," he purrs, his voice a lovely embroidery of mirrored desire and anticipation.  Jane steps forward, not quite knowing what is in store for her but all too ready to find out.  She certainly doesn't expect for him to grab her wrist and force her over his lap and the desk.  Her fingers curl around the edges of the wood and she peers behind her, confused but more than a little turned on.  When his hand slips around her and flips her skirt up to her waist, Jane begins to realize where he's going with this.
"Naughty girl," he 'tuts', smoothing his long fingers over her bottom and chuckling erotically.  "I never would've guessed that you'd be the type to forgo underwear."  She is only wearing her stockings, which net and mesh over her ass like a perfect invitation, beckoning Francis onward as he squeezes the globes of her flesh.  Jane bites her lip and buries her head into her arms, not quite embarrassed but definitely unwilling to let him see her blushing face.  He only chuckles at her reaction and gives her a light slap, watching the way her skin reddens and moves from the contact.
He can't deny that this little fantasy of his is making him very hard.  He is already at half mast and not even a full minute of this delicious torture has passed.  He hasn't been this excited for a very long time, and intends to fully make use of their little situation and of the fact that his classroom door happens to have a lock.  He smiles darkly and raises his hand against her again, spanking her lightly but firmly, alternating from one side of her ass to the other.  When he hears a very soft, muffled keening sound leave her mouth, Francis chuckles. 
"Do you like this?" he asks, rubbing the reddened skin before lightly slapping her again.  He is gentle even in the midst of his rough desire, and makes sure not to actually hurt her.  When she doesn't respond, he grins a slightly lecherous grin and hooks his fingers into the waistline her stockings, suddenly jerking them down and revealing every inch of her sensitive flesh.  Jane makes a surprised noise and peers around to look at him.  The casual way he sits and blinks back sends her heart on fire.  He smirks at her and, when he touches her next, skin on skin, she bites her lip and blushes vividly.
"Yes…I think you do," Francis mutters, smoothing his touch over her butt, spreading the globes of her flesh just a little and inhaling the strong scent of her arousal.  "You like this very much…" he whispers, and hears her inhale sharply as one long finger dips between her legs and feels the extent of her wet folds.  She is soaking, and the fact that he's the reason for her arousal does silly things to his self control.  All at once he wants to turn her over his desk and fuck her senseless.  For now though, and because he doesn't want to scare her off, he just gently probes her entrance with his finger and then slowly inches inside her.  Her stifled moan is enough to momentarily satiate his building hunger.
Francis hums out a low, pleased sound.  He takes his time in his exploration of her inner walls, tenderly dragging his finger in and out of her at a soft pace.  It dawns on him that she probably isn't a virgin, considering how she's not in pain, and this thought gives him mixed reactions.  "You have done this before, ma chérie d'amour?" [1]  He draws away and stands, suddenly overcome with the desire to see her face.  With this in mind, Francis grabs her ankle and forcefully but gently turns her onto her back.  She pants up at him, chest heaving, stockings endearingly stretched to mid-thigh, and Francis is then overcome with other desires as well. 
He leers down at her and slams one hand by her head.  He'd like to nestle himself between those legs of hers but the stockings provide an unfortunate barrier.  Instead, he just raises an eyebrow at her and drags his wet finger back to her core, teasing her entrance and watching her eyes flutter half closed, her face turn molten, her body tilt into a little arch as she tries to push her hips into his hand. 
"O-Once," she finally gasps, and her answer hangs in the air between them.  She isn't a virgin but she'd only done it once before, and is still very new to the world of sexual pleasure.  A world which Francis happens to be quite the expert in.  "B-But…" she breaths, locking her gaze with his, "it felt nothing…like this…"  And he feels his heart hammer excitedly in his chest as her words forge a path through his body.
"Mmm…no, I imagine it didn't," he drawls, leaning back.  His hands slowly drag down her thighs and he begins the tedious task of removing her stockings.  They peel down her skin and are gone before she can so much as blink, then Francis is heaving her to the edge of the desk and jerking her core against his hard erection.  He smirks and starts unbuttoning her shirt.  "But I will show you what real pleasure feels like."
She watches helplessly as he undoes half the buttons of her shirt, then moves his fingers to deal with her bra.  She is at once thankful that she chose to wear her only front-opening one, and it clicks open in seconds before Francis pushes it away.  He engulfs one breast with a gentle hand and watches her blush.  "I've always imagined you'd look like this.  Petite, doux, et charmant…" [2] 
She watches him press a kiss to both breasts before leaning back and peering down at her.  Then he smiles and reaches to undo his belt, and Jane knows there really is no going back now.  They'd reached the point of no return ages ago, the moment he had turned her over his lap and shoved up her skirt.
His cock, when he shoves his pants away, is thick, much different from Jane's other sexual encounters.  She stares at it for a moment before moving her eyes up to his, and he takes advantage of the moment by rubbing up against her wet folds.  Her reaction is an immediate gasp and another tilt of her body.  He chuckles, "I will put it in now.  It may hurt at first."  His warning makes her anxious but she doesn't show it, and he hauls her closer to the edge of the desk before beginning to guide his cock to her entrance.
As he slowly pushes himself into her, Jane holds her breath and grasps onto his wrists as he spreads her legs apart.  Her first thought is that this truly feels nothing like her first time.  Her second thought is that it does hurt, but only a little.  Her third thought blows away the other two and she suddenly moaning because it suddenly feels so good.  The girth of him, the thickness of his cock, the way she can feel him stretching her and reaching places of her body she hadn't even know existed, it all has her moaning and panting and gasping his name before he even gets five thrusts in.
"Ohonhon…" he chuckles, clutching her thighs and picking up his pace.  He pins her to the desk with the forceful, bruising of his thrusts, watching her breasts shift and her body heave and loving every little helplessly breathy moan that leaves her lips.  "You like my cock, don't you?  Vous regardez si sexy portant qu'il y a…crier mon nom comme que…" [3]
She moans and clutches his arms tighter, blinking up at him through hazy eyes that scream out in passion.  It is a sight he'd never thought he'd see, her beneath him, splayed out over his desk, being fucked into oblivion and farther.  Never mind that it is him doing the fucking.  He grits his teeth and hauls her ever closer, clutching at the sensitive skin of her ass as he drags his cock in and out of her at a dizzying pace.
"Ah~" she moans, arching into the air.  She's going to come.  It doesn't take an expert to see, or to feel the way she is suddenly clenching over his shaft.  He makes a pleased noise at the feel of her now tight entrance and goes harder, thrusting faster.  Jane is bucking her hips up and coming moments later, and though Francis is not even near his own orgasm, he smiles and lets her come, enjoying the twisted sight she makes.
"I did not tell you to come," he drawls, and she blinks up at him, gasping.  Then she smirks and tightens her legs around his waist, not letting him pull out of her.  He looks down at her curiously and she murmurs, "You'll have to punish me again."  And he grins because he very much likes where she'd going with this.
He proceeds to do exactly that.

[1] ma chérie d'amour: my dear love / my darling

[2] Petite, doux, et charmant…: Small, soft, and lovely…

[3] Vous regardez si sexy portant qu'il y a…crier mon nom comme que…: You look so sexy laying there…screaming my name like that…



  1. Oh, dear, I really love your stories. They are true masterpiece *^*

  2. O///O i just died! I loved that! It was amazing , excellent job!

  3. This was perfect. O///O

  4. France is the best story to read loved it.

  5. Heeeey I just wanna say that I have read tons of ur smut and I LOVE YOU ♡♡ Well I also kinda wanna fix the French parts (if there's some mistakes anyone is free to correct me). It should be 《Petite, douce et charmante》bcs adjectives can change depending from the gender of the subject/object. And if you wanna say 'You look so sexy laying there…screaming my name like that…' it would be like《Tu as l'air très sexy quand tu cries mon nom comme ça...》Well I hope it helps... French isn't my first language and neither is English ._. Well, I'm definitely looking forward for more of your lemons especially the Hetalia ones. Cheers xx