Blood Red Roses [Hetalia FrUk]

Day Four-Night-Done Denying

There was a soft knock at Arthur's door. Not tonight, Arthur thought, there's another meeting tomorrow. But he knew it was Francis at the door, and he eagerly opened it. Of course he tried to hide his eagerness. It would just provoke the pervert.

The two men smiled upon seeing each other. Arthur didn't even need to tell the Frenchman to come in. Francis glided past Arthur, his eyes on the rose in the vase in the dresser. His smile widened. "You picked the freshest rose, Arthur." Francis whispered. It was late at night, 11 or so. The meeting started at 8 am tomorrow morning, and Arthur did NOT want to have to sprint again this time.

Arthur strode slowly to Francis. He wasn't like the Frenchman. He was horrible with love. He barely understood it, yet Francis knew love like Natalia knew knives. And Natalia knew knives. And Ivan.

He decided to try love. Even if he was terrible. He leaned in to Francis' ear and whispered, "I love the roses, fro--Francis." He breathed the name, dragging every letter out slowly. Did Francis really like Arthur? Time to find out.

The moon was high in the sky. It was midnight. Arthur and Francis had been up chatting for hours. Arthur decided to make a move, but Francis beat him. The Frenchman leaned in to Arthur's ear and brushed his lips past the Brit's cheek. Arthur flushed. Francis smiled. No talking. The stewards and stewardesses were walking around the halls, plus Hungary's and Japan's rooms were just down the hall. If they made any noise, the sounds of camera clicks would keep everyone up all night. Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and pulled the grumpy-looking Brit close to him. The Frenchman ran his hands up and down Arthur's sides, and his lips found Arthur's neck.

Arthur was getting more and more flustered. He loved this, yet he didn't want to let Francis know. The Frenchman already knew. Arthur tried to talk, but was cut off in mid sentence by Francis' soft lips on Arthur's. Arthur whimpered and kissed Francis, letting soft moans escape when their lips parted for half-seconds. Francis pushed Arthur down on his bed, and ran his hands up Arthur's back. His fingers snaked up Arthur's shirt, easing it off slowly. Arthur tried to fight Francis back, but was easily weakened as Francis pulled his own shirt off. Both men lay on Arthur's hotel bed, shirtless, barely breathing in between kisses. Francis let Arthur try to fight him, but both men knew Francis was the one good at "fighting". And it seemed like Arthur wasn't trying very hard anyways.

Arthur barely protested. He was too smitten. Francis had been right. Arthur was in love, he'd just denied it all this time. He loved Francis. He wanted to feel every inch of the frog that he could get his hands on. He let the Frenchman's fingers travel up his bare back, then back down even slower than before. Francis' hands went lower than before this time, down past Arthur's waist, and his fingers curled around Arthur's hips and locked there, not letting Arthur slip away. Not that the Brit would anyway.

Arthur moaned softly as Francis' lips traveled from his, down his neck and across his collarbone. Francis' lips brushed left across Arthur's collarbone, his teeth brushed right, his tongue brushed left. Arthur moaned slightly louder. Francis laughed his signature laugh. "Ohonhonhonhon~" and for once Arthur smiled because of it. He blushed redder. Much redder. Blood red. His face burned. His fingertips brushed across Francis's spine, up and down his back, left and right. Up. Down. Left. Right. Up. Down. Left. Right. Francis' fingers dug under Arthur's waistline. Started to slowly ease his pants off. Arthur did the same to Francis, yet shyer, slower. Francis had control.

Soon both the men were stark naked, under the covers, and Arthur wasn't protesting about Francis' lack of clothing this time. Francis caressed the British man, his lips traveling down past Arthur's collarbone. Arthur moaned louder with each kiss, and dug his fingertips into Francis' back. He dragged his hands down, leaving long streaks in the Frenchman's back as Francis kissed lower and lower, slower and slower, leaving a long trail of wet kisses down Arthur's chest. Arthur moaned, his smile widened, and he went limp, leaving every thing up to Francis.

Francis ran his teeth over Arthur's pelvis, making the brit moan loudly. The Frenchman brought his head back up and bit down hard on the side of Arthur's neck. Arthur cried out in pain, and the cry dissolved into a moan. Francis's hands slid down Arthur's sides, over his hips, and under his thighs. Francis moved Arthur's legs so they curled around the Frenchman's waist. Arthur tilted Francis's head up and kissed him so hard it hurt. This wasn't a one time thing. He was in love, and he was done denying it.