fic: Fierce
Jun. 22nd, 2010 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Fierce
Series: Hetalia
Character/Pairing: France/Canada
Rating: R?
Word count: 2156
Author's note: Kink meme. Part of a currently nameless France/Canada ficverse.
After more than four hundred years, Matthew was used to bouts of strangeness from Francis. Francis had been clicking his tongue and reworking Matthew's apparel to suit his own tastes.
Of course, Francis thought himself the patron god of fashion, and Matthew wasn't about to correct him. Matthew tried to push back the thoughts that Francis was making him good enough to be with him – as if it would take several more transformations before Francis would even give him a second look. This was just how Francis worked. He refused to let Matthew sink back into the shadows, and now that they were together, he was all the more adamant that Matthew conform to the styles of the day.
The super malls in America and Canada just weren't enough for Francis. His choices were always big name, extremely expensive stuff that to Matthew didn't look that much different from getting something off of the discount rack at Walmart. However, Matthew knew that actually voicing that would make Francis weep inside, so he bit his tongue and kept quiet.
But Matthew had to admit that all in all, it was kind of fun. Francis was really happy with his crusade of improving, and even if Matthew got stuck with carrying the by now very large assortments of bags and pile of clothes to be bought at this particular store alone. It was some ritzy, upscale place with a bored, arrogant shopgirl that Matthew swore all of these upscale stores had. They all seemed to have severe black bobs and thick square black glasses. They were very thin and dressed in black.
If Alfred were here, he'd probably suggest they were all robots. Or clones. Or robot clones. Or maybe a plot involving robot clones from outer space by aliens – the mean, non-Tony kind who wanted to take over the world.
So far Matthew wasn't the only one who got some new clothes. Francis had certainly gotten his fair share...and modeled it all for Matthew. That too had been part of the appeal. Francis always made a good model, and he'd give sultry, flirty looks back and even a derriere shake just to keep Matthew a little turned on the whole time.
So far he had amassed some shirt – shirt being a relative term, here – made entirely of mesh. There were the silky, loose dress shirts of the kind that Francis liked. Personally, Matthew thought it made him look like Francis' son, which added a whole 'nother creeper layer he wasn't even touching. Then there were the washed out and ripped jeans, which Matthew liked, but thought were way too expensive. If he wanted a pair of ratty ripped jeans, he'd just go to the salvation army and pay a hundred times less for them. Genuine rattiness so beat the faux new stuff. But that was another secret he had to keep from Francis. Francis would probably throw a fit if he realized that some of the stuff there had been previously owned. He'd probably use it as yet another reason to ditch Matthew's stuff, too.
Francis pulled something from a rack, and brought it up. He fawned over it, muttering in French about the quality of the leather, the stitching, whatever.
"Oh, these are perfect for you..." Matthew looked beyond the pile of clothes. Francis lifted a very tight pair of black leather pants. They had a drawstring front, and even the sides were lace-up.
"Uh, those aren't going to fit," Matthew said.
Francis frowned and looked at the tag. "No, no, they're definitely your size."
"I mean, it won't fit," Matthew said. He was blushing now, though it was obscured by the mountainous pile of clothes.
"Please give it a try, Matthieu. It'll only take a moment."
"Really, they won't fit at all–"
"For me?" Francis pleaded. "I want to see you in them. I'm sure you will look ravishing."
He knew looking ravishing meant looking good enough to ravish in Francisese.. But he could never resist Francis' pleas, so he set aside the pile with a sigh.
"Alright..."
Matthew took the pair of pants and went into the stall with an odd sense of foreboding. They were lucky a place this ritzy even had a changing room. With some trepidation, Matthew began to peel off his clothes. He looked down at his forest green boxers and wondered how they were going to fit. Then, a plan struck him.
"I'm wearing boxers, I can't fit in something this skintight," Matthew said. He mentally high-fived himself for the excuse.
"Nice try, Matthieu," Francis said. "Why not simply put them on without the boxers?"
"I'm not going into these things bare. Who knows who else has tried these on?"
"Well, then you'll just have to wear something more skintight underneath there," Francis said. "I'll give you what I'm wearing. Just a moment."
Matthew was surprised that Francis was wearing underwear at all. After some rustling in the stall next to him, Francis slipped a thong under the door. He put on Francis' thong and then the pants themselves. Matthew knew they'd be tight, but he hadn't thought it'd be like slipping on a whole 'nother set of skin. He had no idea how he would even move in this. His legs felt like they might go numb any moment. They weren't pants, they were a lower body sheath that happened to be made of leather. And that wasn't all. The tightness made certain aspects of his anatomy all that more uh, pronounced. It looked like he'd slipped a yam down his pants.
"Come out and let me see," Francis said.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Matthew said. He looked down in dismay.
"Oh? What is it? Surely it can't be that bad."
"Really, I-I think it's just best to take them off and forget about them," Matthew said. "Also, I'm keeping your underwear."
"And you'll wear it all day?" Francis purred. He always had a fetish for Matthew wearing his clothes. He knew just the mention of this would have Francis hot. And it wasn't like he disliked them. Too much, anyways. Matthew preferred the full, comfortable, even frumpy coverage. He wore longjohns and was proud of it. But it was sexy wearing something which had been so closely fitted to Francis' body.
"I'll...I'll wear them until you take them off of me," Matthew said. He'd meant to be playful, and to distract Francis' attention away. However, he miscalculated the extent of Francis' libido, daringness, and urge to see Matthew in those horrid pants.
"I'm coming in."
"Wait, Francis—"
The door opened. Francis stood in the doorway, eagerly drinking in the sight of Matthew.
"C-close the door behind you," Matthew said. "I told you it'd look ridiculous..." He rubbed at his flaming cheeks now. Francis had his 'undressing you with my eyes' leer.
"I did not take into account your sizable bijoux de famille..." Francis said. "Obviously we must do something about this..."
"Like take it off?" Matthew said hopefully.
"That's a good idea..."
Matthew gasped as he felt Francis' hand cupping him and rubbing at him through the material. Already the friction had been doing a number on him. He didn't know how someone could wear something this tight and not get hard in the process.
"It's too tight– I..I don't want it to get dirty," Matthew gasped.
"Than I'll just have to make sure not a single drop spills...."
He put his hoodie down on the seated part of the stall to lessen the public ick factor. Francis peeled the pants off him, and it was like the pants were clinging on to him, reluctant to leave as he did it. Francis knelt before him and took him into his mouth, and then all Matthew could feel was the amazing warm feeling of Francis' mouth.
Public sex – or semi-public sex wasn't something they'd tried, though Matthew knew Francis had been just dying to. If it involved sex, leave it to Francis to want to try and experiment. He probably had a checklist somewhere clicking off all the depraved things he could do with Matthew. Matthew was just glad that he was the one Francis wanted to do this with.
He pressed his palm to his mouth and bit down to keep from screaming Francis' name. He was trembling, and taking shaking breaths through his nose. Francis knew exactly what he was doing. Francis seemed to be flirting with the idea of making them get caught. Or maybe he was just upping the tension. He was really not holding anything back. His tongue, oh his tongue was doing things that he was pretty sure were illegal in most countries. He could see himself in the mirror, and see another angle of Francis on his knees, sucking him off. Francis moaned in the back of his throat. He was making these slurping sounds as he sucked off, giving the impression that Matthew's cock was the best thing he'd ever tasted and all he wanted was more. With anyone else, it'd had probably been seriously cheesy – and well, it was a with Francis, a little. But more than that, it was sexy and sent a tingle of excitement through him just watching Francis suck him. Francis always gave the impression when they were together that there was nowhere else he'd rather be than here with Matthew, here in Matthew.
He twisted his fingers in Francis' golden curls, and Francis swallowed him a little more. His skin was damp with saliva, and tender from the attention Francis was giving with his tongue. His skin – his whole body seemed to be throbbing from Francis' attentions. He couldn't completely keep the moan back as Francis swallowed him to the hilt. He was slippery from saliva, probably tugging on Francis' hair too hard, but he couldn't focus enough to even think on that. He let go of his palm which now had a sizable bite mark on it. He whimpered Francis' name. Francis just smirked, and licked the white come from his mouth.
Matthew put his regular clothes back on, grateful to be free from the pants. Francis, however picked the pants up and put them on the pile.
"But they don't fit," Matthew protested.
"Oh, they fit well. I'm buying them for myself."
"They seem more like your kind of thing anyways," Matthew said with a shrug.
"No, you misunderstand me," Francis said. "I'm buying them for you to wear for me."
"Oh," Matthew said. "Oh."
Francis licked his lips and smirked. "Don't worry, Mon chéri you won't have to wear these out...Imagine how many people I'd have to beat away from you if I did. It would be amusing at first to see everyone so jealous of who I have as a lover, but, eh." Francis shrugged. "It would lose its amusement fast."
"Did you just say 'eh'? You're picking up my verbal tics, Francis," Matthew said with a grin.
"I am not," Francis said.
"Can't fight the Canadian invasion, eh," Matthew said with a grin.
"If anyone is invading you tonight, it will be me," Francis said. "The storming of your bed will come right after the storming of your closet. Especially as I'm paying for all these."
"And thank you for that. I really do," Matthew said. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble..."
"Pfft, they all give me discounts. As they should, considering I hold up the fashion industry with my pinky," Francis said.
"I might even let you invade me tonight if you're good," Francis said.
Now they were out of the stall, and more into the public eye.
"F-Francis–! We're in public," Matthew said. But he was laughing even as he blushed.
Francis bent to kiss him right there while the shop girl looked on boredly. She rolled her eyes. He rubbed noses with Matthew a moment, looked gave him a look that Matthew couldn't describe as anything but adoration. They shared a smile – the sappy, no one else in the world but us kind that drove people crazy.
The shopgirl clicked her gum and cleared her throat. Matthew was flushing a little. He was still getting used to this public displays of affection thing, but it was pretty much mandatory with Francis. He couldn't keep his hands off him in public, the rest of the world be damned. But it was a little thrilling too, because people were noticing him. Probably wondering who that plain person was with such a svelte, handsome man.
Or maybe, just maybe, they were jealous and thinking what a lucky person Matthew was.
Matthew would like to think it was the latter.
Series: Hetalia
Character/Pairing: France/Canada
Rating: R?
Word count: 2156
Author's note: Kink meme. Part of a currently nameless France/Canada ficverse.
After more than four hundred years, Matthew was used to bouts of strangeness from Francis. Francis had been clicking his tongue and reworking Matthew's apparel to suit his own tastes.
Of course, Francis thought himself the patron god of fashion, and Matthew wasn't about to correct him. Matthew tried to push back the thoughts that Francis was making him good enough to be with him – as if it would take several more transformations before Francis would even give him a second look. This was just how Francis worked. He refused to let Matthew sink back into the shadows, and now that they were together, he was all the more adamant that Matthew conform to the styles of the day.
The super malls in America and Canada just weren't enough for Francis. His choices were always big name, extremely expensive stuff that to Matthew didn't look that much different from getting something off of the discount rack at Walmart. However, Matthew knew that actually voicing that would make Francis weep inside, so he bit his tongue and kept quiet.
But Matthew had to admit that all in all, it was kind of fun. Francis was really happy with his crusade of improving, and even if Matthew got stuck with carrying the by now very large assortments of bags and pile of clothes to be bought at this particular store alone. It was some ritzy, upscale place with a bored, arrogant shopgirl that Matthew swore all of these upscale stores had. They all seemed to have severe black bobs and thick square black glasses. They were very thin and dressed in black.
If Alfred were here, he'd probably suggest they were all robots. Or clones. Or robot clones. Or maybe a plot involving robot clones from outer space by aliens – the mean, non-Tony kind who wanted to take over the world.
So far Matthew wasn't the only one who got some new clothes. Francis had certainly gotten his fair share...and modeled it all for Matthew. That too had been part of the appeal. Francis always made a good model, and he'd give sultry, flirty looks back and even a derriere shake just to keep Matthew a little turned on the whole time.
So far he had amassed some shirt – shirt being a relative term, here – made entirely of mesh. There were the silky, loose dress shirts of the kind that Francis liked. Personally, Matthew thought it made him look like Francis' son, which added a whole 'nother creeper layer he wasn't even touching. Then there were the washed out and ripped jeans, which Matthew liked, but thought were way too expensive. If he wanted a pair of ratty ripped jeans, he'd just go to the salvation army and pay a hundred times less for them. Genuine rattiness so beat the faux new stuff. But that was another secret he had to keep from Francis. Francis would probably throw a fit if he realized that some of the stuff there had been previously owned. He'd probably use it as yet another reason to ditch Matthew's stuff, too.
Francis pulled something from a rack, and brought it up. He fawned over it, muttering in French about the quality of the leather, the stitching, whatever.
"Oh, these are perfect for you..." Matthew looked beyond the pile of clothes. Francis lifted a very tight pair of black leather pants. They had a drawstring front, and even the sides were lace-up.
"Uh, those aren't going to fit," Matthew said.
Francis frowned and looked at the tag. "No, no, they're definitely your size."
"I mean, it won't fit," Matthew said. He was blushing now, though it was obscured by the mountainous pile of clothes.
"Please give it a try, Matthieu. It'll only take a moment."
"Really, they won't fit at all–"
"For me?" Francis pleaded. "I want to see you in them. I'm sure you will look ravishing."
He knew looking ravishing meant looking good enough to ravish in Francisese.. But he could never resist Francis' pleas, so he set aside the pile with a sigh.
"Alright..."
Matthew took the pair of pants and went into the stall with an odd sense of foreboding. They were lucky a place this ritzy even had a changing room. With some trepidation, Matthew began to peel off his clothes. He looked down at his forest green boxers and wondered how they were going to fit. Then, a plan struck him.
"I'm wearing boxers, I can't fit in something this skintight," Matthew said. He mentally high-fived himself for the excuse.
"Nice try, Matthieu," Francis said. "Why not simply put them on without the boxers?"
"I'm not going into these things bare. Who knows who else has tried these on?"
"Well, then you'll just have to wear something more skintight underneath there," Francis said. "I'll give you what I'm wearing. Just a moment."
Matthew was surprised that Francis was wearing underwear at all. After some rustling in the stall next to him, Francis slipped a thong under the door. He put on Francis' thong and then the pants themselves. Matthew knew they'd be tight, but he hadn't thought it'd be like slipping on a whole 'nother set of skin. He had no idea how he would even move in this. His legs felt like they might go numb any moment. They weren't pants, they were a lower body sheath that happened to be made of leather. And that wasn't all. The tightness made certain aspects of his anatomy all that more uh, pronounced. It looked like he'd slipped a yam down his pants.
"Come out and let me see," Francis said.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Matthew said. He looked down in dismay.
"Oh? What is it? Surely it can't be that bad."
"Really, I-I think it's just best to take them off and forget about them," Matthew said. "Also, I'm keeping your underwear."
"And you'll wear it all day?" Francis purred. He always had a fetish for Matthew wearing his clothes. He knew just the mention of this would have Francis hot. And it wasn't like he disliked them. Too much, anyways. Matthew preferred the full, comfortable, even frumpy coverage. He wore longjohns and was proud of it. But it was sexy wearing something which had been so closely fitted to Francis' body.
"I'll...I'll wear them until you take them off of me," Matthew said. He'd meant to be playful, and to distract Francis' attention away. However, he miscalculated the extent of Francis' libido, daringness, and urge to see Matthew in those horrid pants.
"I'm coming in."
"Wait, Francis—"
The door opened. Francis stood in the doorway, eagerly drinking in the sight of Matthew.
"C-close the door behind you," Matthew said. "I told you it'd look ridiculous..." He rubbed at his flaming cheeks now. Francis had his 'undressing you with my eyes' leer.
"I did not take into account your sizable bijoux de famille..." Francis said. "Obviously we must do something about this..."
"Like take it off?" Matthew said hopefully.
"That's a good idea..."
Matthew gasped as he felt Francis' hand cupping him and rubbing at him through the material. Already the friction had been doing a number on him. He didn't know how someone could wear something this tight and not get hard in the process.
"It's too tight– I..I don't want it to get dirty," Matthew gasped.
"Than I'll just have to make sure not a single drop spills...."
He put his hoodie down on the seated part of the stall to lessen the public ick factor. Francis peeled the pants off him, and it was like the pants were clinging on to him, reluctant to leave as he did it. Francis knelt before him and took him into his mouth, and then all Matthew could feel was the amazing warm feeling of Francis' mouth.
Public sex – or semi-public sex wasn't something they'd tried, though Matthew knew Francis had been just dying to. If it involved sex, leave it to Francis to want to try and experiment. He probably had a checklist somewhere clicking off all the depraved things he could do with Matthew. Matthew was just glad that he was the one Francis wanted to do this with.
He pressed his palm to his mouth and bit down to keep from screaming Francis' name. He was trembling, and taking shaking breaths through his nose. Francis knew exactly what he was doing. Francis seemed to be flirting with the idea of making them get caught. Or maybe he was just upping the tension. He was really not holding anything back. His tongue, oh his tongue was doing things that he was pretty sure were illegal in most countries. He could see himself in the mirror, and see another angle of Francis on his knees, sucking him off. Francis moaned in the back of his throat. He was making these slurping sounds as he sucked off, giving the impression that Matthew's cock was the best thing he'd ever tasted and all he wanted was more. With anyone else, it'd had probably been seriously cheesy – and well, it was a with Francis, a little. But more than that, it was sexy and sent a tingle of excitement through him just watching Francis suck him. Francis always gave the impression when they were together that there was nowhere else he'd rather be than here with Matthew, here in Matthew.
He twisted his fingers in Francis' golden curls, and Francis swallowed him a little more. His skin was damp with saliva, and tender from the attention Francis was giving with his tongue. His skin – his whole body seemed to be throbbing from Francis' attentions. He couldn't completely keep the moan back as Francis swallowed him to the hilt. He was slippery from saliva, probably tugging on Francis' hair too hard, but he couldn't focus enough to even think on that. He let go of his palm which now had a sizable bite mark on it. He whimpered Francis' name. Francis just smirked, and licked the white come from his mouth.
Matthew put his regular clothes back on, grateful to be free from the pants. Francis, however picked the pants up and put them on the pile.
"But they don't fit," Matthew protested.
"Oh, they fit well. I'm buying them for myself."
"They seem more like your kind of thing anyways," Matthew said with a shrug.
"No, you misunderstand me," Francis said. "I'm buying them for you to wear for me."
"Oh," Matthew said. "Oh."
Francis licked his lips and smirked. "Don't worry, Mon chéri you won't have to wear these out...Imagine how many people I'd have to beat away from you if I did. It would be amusing at first to see everyone so jealous of who I have as a lover, but, eh." Francis shrugged. "It would lose its amusement fast."
"Did you just say 'eh'? You're picking up my verbal tics, Francis," Matthew said with a grin.
"I am not," Francis said.
"Can't fight the Canadian invasion, eh," Matthew said with a grin.
"If anyone is invading you tonight, it will be me," Francis said. "The storming of your bed will come right after the storming of your closet. Especially as I'm paying for all these."
"And thank you for that. I really do," Matthew said. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble..."
"Pfft, they all give me discounts. As they should, considering I hold up the fashion industry with my pinky," Francis said.
"I might even let you invade me tonight if you're good," Francis said.
Now they were out of the stall, and more into the public eye.
"F-Francis–! We're in public," Matthew said. But he was laughing even as he blushed.
Francis bent to kiss him right there while the shop girl looked on boredly. She rolled her eyes. He rubbed noses with Matthew a moment, looked gave him a look that Matthew couldn't describe as anything but adoration. They shared a smile – the sappy, no one else in the world but us kind that drove people crazy.
The shopgirl clicked her gum and cleared her throat. Matthew was flushing a little. He was still getting used to this public displays of affection thing, but it was pretty much mandatory with Francis. He couldn't keep his hands off him in public, the rest of the world be damned. But it was a little thrilling too, because people were noticing him. Probably wondering who that plain person was with such a svelte, handsome man.
Or maybe, just maybe, they were jealous and thinking what a lucky person Matthew was.
Matthew would like to think it was the latter.
