That was an appropriate word to describe Matthew's native soil, for Matthew's passive-aggressive disposition, but most importantly— for Matthew's sexual prowess or rather, lack thereof.
And naturally, Francis took that frigidity to others as a personal challenge himself to surmount.
"What are you enjoying so profoundly, mon cher?"
Breaking from his dreamy gaze at a moldly ceiling panel in the cleared out conference room, the younger nation glanced at Francis who slid into an empty seat beside him and bestowed a close-lipped but handsome smile upon him. Matthew opened his mouth to respond to the unanswered question, but forgot about the particularly delicious piece of hard candy he had been sucking on, and started coughing violently as it dangerously brushed his windpipe.
Francis coaxed him to breathe with a brief and gentle rub of the muscular space between Matthew's convulsing shoulders.
"Too personal of a question, I suspect?" The older nation teased him, devoid of nastiness.
Matthew cleared his throat, coughing weaker into a fist. "…Th-they are the maple syrup candies from my house. Really good… Oh…" Violet-colored eyes brightened with good-natured concern at a pleasantly confused Francis, as the younger nation reached down and presented him with an open bagful of circular, ale-colored candies, saying shyly, "I haven't asked if you wanted any yet…"
Perhaps they were all wrong… perhaps frigid was the precise opposite word to use for him…
"You are very kind," Francis told him, waving them off politely. His own eyes, the blue of Claude Monet's water lilies, brightening with a… darker emotion than concern. "But I am craving something far sweeter, Mathieu…"
The backs of his fingers stroked the soft angle of cheek as Francis moved forward to the younger nation, drawing his other hand into that gorgeous, touchable tangle of dark blond, and placed his lips to Matthew's. With a faint, surprised groan, Matthew unintentionally loosened and parted his mouth, and the older took it immediately as an invitation. As Francis' clever tongue slipped into that tender, wet cavern, Matthew's hands reached out to claw his companion's upper arms, scrambling desperately for something unyielding and real as a wave of stark surrealism stole him.
For Francis, the taste of the other's saliva mingled with the overly sugary flavor of that hard candy curled around Matthew's tongue prompted him to ride an impulse. As they began to part from each other slowly, Francis snatched the candy into his own mouth, smirking in an egotistic fashion as he massaged dark blond roots.
"What did you make of this then?" the older nation asked, sucking the maple hard candy between his teeth.
At the sound, Matthew's face blossomed to a flower-pink and his eyes widened impossibly big. He lunged forward nearly into Francis's lap, hands planted heavily on long legs, and crushed his open mouth to his. Despite the prickly scratch of Francis's too-late shave and how his glasses skewed jerkily between them both… this was nice. How natural their breathing seemed intertwined… how that hand in his hair better not stop anytime soon… how the older laughed softly flush against him as Matthew blindly and unwaveringly fought for dominance when it came this little piece of candy…
Still blushing, breathing hard, Matthew sat back on his haunches with a proud expression, snapping it in his mouth.
"Intéressant, cher," Francis crooned, wrapping a finger around the younger nation's also touchable curl. "You have for the moment impressed me. Not many can."
Pride drifting into a innocent and bewildered state of doubt.
Hetalia is not a product of my imagination or what I wrote down one night after a drunken stupor, on a yellow Stick-It note attached to my forehead. Yet another oneshot for the Hetalia Kink Meme. I am just powering through these, aren't I? Well… I don't hear any complaining yet…soooooo… FRANCE/CANADA NEEDS FOR WUV. WANNA FIGHT ME ABOUT IT? HUH? HUH? O.o; –hides with her stuffed Cheshire Cat-
Mon cher/cher: My dear/Dear
Mathieu: Matthew (…just prettier in my head… x3 shhh…)
Intéressant : Interesting
De rien: It's nothing