Author's note: Baaaaaaah, this has taken so long to finish and even now the ending is kinda iffy, but I figured I'd post it anyway. Someone at the hetalia comm at lj suggested a prompt for FrUK using a rose during foreplay. So I worked off of that. I swear, I love writing the little spats these two get into more than the smut XD But yeah, this was just something I did on my own time, not for a request or anything (for once lol)


England wasn't the type to be a sap. But when he saw the roses sitting in the little shop around the corner, he just had an inexplicable urge to buy them. So he walked into the shop, picked the beautifully arranged bouquet and pulled out his wallet. He left feeling a little giddy. It was stupid really. He was going to see France and he hated the bastard, he really did, and yet…

He spied the other nation sitting outside a café, sipping a cup of tea. "Ah, mon cher!" France greeted with a smile.

England nodded before taking a seat. He held out the bouquet and turned his head to hide the blush. "Here," he said.

France blinked and stared at the flowers being presented to him. "For me…?" he asked uncertainly.

"Do you see anyone else around? Yes, they're for you, you bloody idiot." Goddammit, just take the damn thing already!

France slowly took the bouquet from the other man and placed them on the table. "Why?" he mumbled.

"I don't know," England growled while staring anywhere but at France. "I saw them and thought of you. That's all."

"You think of me?" The grin on his face made England want to slap him.

"I don't ask to. Look, can we just drop it already? I didn't come here to discuss flowers with you."

"Hmm, no you didn't." France put his chin into the palm of his hand. "So what did you want to talk about?"

"…I can't remember."

France laughed. "Mon cher, you never cease to entertain me."

England flushed red. "Shut up, stupid frog."

The other blonde leaned across the table with a smirk. "You know what I think?" He picked a rose from the bouquet and caressed the side of England's face with it gently. He watched the green eyes widen and then close. "I think…you are trying to seduce me, in your own weird English way."

"That—That's preposterous."

"Is it?" He let the petals caress under England's chin. "No one else has ever brought me flowers—or roses for that matter—except you."

"I-It's nothing more than a gift. I have no ulterior motives."

"Mon cher, when you lie, your eyes dilate. So stop lying."

England pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "I'm leaving." He stood up, but France reached over to grab his wrist and pulled him right back down.

"Not yet," he purred. His fingers began to trace a delicate pattern onto the other man's hand, causing the Englishman to moan softly. "Come with me."


"If you make one more excuse, I swear I will throw this liquid that you English call tea right into your face."

"…bloody wanker."

France grinned. They both stood up then and gingerly strode down the streets to, England assumed, France's London apartment. Upon entering the building, England was given strange looks from the desk staff but ignored them. France led him up the stairs to his room (honestly, there were elevators for a reason).

England glared at the back of the other's head, hoping to somehow pierce a hole through it. Once they found the room and France opened and closed the door, there was an awkward silence.

"Well," England started and was abruptly cut off as France grabbed his tie and pulled. He choked slightly. "W-What the bloody hell—?"

"Calme, mon Anglais," France whispered into his ear. The rose was in his hand still and moved to caress the side of England's face.


The Frenchman pulled him closer until their mouths clashed together. England's eyes widened; he was unsure of how to react. He relaxed into the kiss, liking how France's tongue pushed into his mouth and began to explore. His arms came up to wrap around France's neck.

France pulled back and licked his lips. "Mmm, exquis," he purred and England blushed.

"What are you planning, France?"

"Why? Do I seem like I am planning something?"

He received a dark look. "Stop playing games."

France smirked. "Mon cher, the game has only just begun."

England then found himself being pushed onto the bed with a rose delicately moving across his neck. France carefully climbed on top of him and stared down into his defiant green eyes. His hands slowly unbuttoned the Englishman's top revealing creamy white skin. There were tiny scars across his chest, so France leaned his head down and very softly kissed each one. England squirmed under him and moaned. As France kissed down the other's abdomen, he unbuckled his pants and slid them down slim hips. England gasped but said nothing.

"You're so quiet," France chided. "It's unlike you."

"I figured I'd wait and see what you're planning," England retorted. He felt the rose brush across his chest and then down, down, down until it was lightly caressing the head of his cock. He whimpered and grabbed onto the bed sheets. "You're not going to shove that bloody thing inside me, are you?" he asked with wide eyes.

France laughed. "Goodness no!" he said. "This is just for foreplay, mon cher." The rose was moved up and down the shaft, causing England to inhale sharply. "It feels good, oui?"

"B-Bloody hell, stop teasing me."

"You are so impatient," he chuckled, letting his breathe ghost over the head. "Why can you not let me enjoy myself?"

England shut his eyes tightly when France's lips touched him. "I mean it, France," he hissed. "Just get on with it."

France smiled and brushed the rose around one of England's nipples. The other nation gasped. The feather-light touches were driving England insane with want. "Such a pert little thing," France mumbled, lowering his head and taking the nipple between his lips. England made a keening sound and arched up. His tongue swirled around and around, earning him pleasant groans.

"S-Suck me off," England whimpered.

"Hmm? What's the magic word?" France grinned.

England glared at him. "Please, you goddamn frog."

Chuckling while shaking his head, France tossed the rose away and lowered himself down to settle in between England's thighs. He kissed them gently before letting his hand stroke the base. Then he opened his mouth and took the cock inside. England moaned loudly and arched his back. The stubble on France's chin and his hair tickled his inner thighs.

"Oh mon cher, you know the way to a Frenchman's heart," France mumbled as he sucked.

"W-What do you mean?"

"Les roses." He kissed the head gently.

England rolled his eyes as best he could. "Is that all?" he murmured.


"…stupid git."

French phrases/words that may or may not be correct:

Calme, mon Anglais - Quiet (Calm down; Relax), my Englishman
exquis - exquisite