Hello all! In celebration of it being October 13th AKA the US Navy's B-day (236 years of amazing), I am posting 5 new stories! Because I can. I hope you all enjoy the spamming ;D
I took this- The first official salute by a foreign nation to the Stars and Stripes took place on 14 February 1778, when the Continental Navy ship Ranger, Captain John Paul Jones, fired 13 guns and received 9 in return from the French fleet anchored in Quiberon Bay, France. -and rolled with it to make this story lolol It's my first time writing France for me so if he seems off I'm sorryyyyy I need to work on characters that aren't America and Russia killing each other xD
I really like how this turned out and I hope you all do, too 8D
Edit: I went through and fixed all the...things I had messed up for lack of sailor mouth. The tenses should be more consistent now and I tried italicizing all of the French words just because I like having foreign words italicized in my works but I didn't have that habit when I first wrote this. Nothing but aesthetics have changed, in essence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
"Are...are you serious?" America asked with wide eyes, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket as he stared at the Frenchman. His heart was fluttering fast in his chest and there was an eager flush to his cheeks, though he didn't know it. Was France really acknowledging him as a country?
"Oui, my ship has already rendered the honors to yours." France smiled charmingly, lifting a glass of wine to his lips in an elegant gesture. The young nation, so newly minted from his life as a colony, watched with the adoring eyes of a teenager being accepted into the folds of adulthood.
"Thank you, France!" America smiled hugely, his expression open and honest and unmarred by anything. France could well remember when the nation before him had come asking for help during his revolution, smeared by exhaustion and carrying a lingering scent of war. Now though he was cleaned up and ready to take on the world as a man, not as a boy fighting his father.
"It means a lot to me that you would do that, really. I mean...you...you helped me out back there and now..." America just wanted to hug the older nation he was feeling so elated. The refined blond in front of him had done so much for him and hadn't asked for very much in return. France didn't yell at him or try and control him like England did, either!
"Ohonhonhon...think nothing of it, mon petit Amerique." France smiled beguilingly and set his wine glass down gracefully. He stood up and advanced on the young nation, footsteps soft and expression gentle. "Do you remember what I said at our last meeting?"
"Ah...about how, uhm..." America looked away from the playfully lidded gaze directed at him, feeling suddenly bashful. The other country was so noble and proud and refined...especially compared to America himself. "How you wanted me to spend a little while in your country...on a more personal basis."
"Oui." France gave a softer version of his customary laugh before lifting one hand to lightly cup America's strong chin. His smile curled into a sly smirk as he leaned in, giving ample time for the new country to pull back and protest. He didn't though and soon the older male's lips are pressed against the chapped ones of the young man before him, moving together in a way that is indecent for how finely dressed the Frenchman is.
America gasped when the kiss broke between them, his blue eyes darkened from the promise of the more experienced man's touch and face flushed from what he'd always been taught by England were impure thoughts and urges. Gentlemen didn't kiss gentlemen in the middle of a well lit room where anyone could walk in.
No, gentlemen kissed colonies in the dark of the night when no one was looking and pretended they didn't know why their charge was limping the next day.
"Would you do me the honor of staying with me, America?" France asked, delivering another kiss while slender fingers wove into rough, ill-treated hair. The American is a testament to masculinity; his hair isn't washed on a regular basis and never with soap, his nails are bitten and ragged, his hands are calloused with deeply ingrained dirt along the knuckles and his clothes are only ever spot-on when he needs something from a superior.
"Y-yes. Yes, I'll stay with you." America smiled, the expression that of a shy soldier receiving something nice from his sweetheart. Everything about the young nation was so fresh and lively and new, it makes France crave him all the more.
"Bon. That makes me very pleased, America." France brought him in for another kiss, lowering his hand from rough hair down to clasp at even rougher hands, twining his slender fingers with the strong digits. He gently led the American from out of the small meeting room they'd been in, leading him down the elegant hallways of his home and towards the ornate bedroom.
The older nation could judge how nervous the other was by how tightly he clutched to their joined hands. By the time he swung the door open and revealed the sunlit room it was actually a little painful but the romantic country didn't mind. So long as his fingers weren't injured the night wouldn't be ruined from a little show of nerves.
"You have done this before, oui?" France inquired softly as he let go of the others hand after pulling him up to the edge of the bed. He began slowly undoing the buttons of the other blond's jacket, letting his fingers linger before sensually moving on to the next.
"Uh...well..." America blushed heavily and tried not to think too hard about how sexual the Frenchman was being just taking his coat off. It's erotic and it really shouldn't be because how was he going to handle it when they got to the more intimate parts? "I have. With England. But, uhm...he was always...I never..."
France raised a delicate brow, stepping close as he slid the jacket off and leaned in to deliver soft kisses to the bared skin of his throat. He caught the clothing and carefully draped it across a nearby chair, the momentary pause of close contact enough to give America a breather and a chance to win back his usual confidence.
"England was the giver, all the other times." America finally admitted. He hadn't cared the first few times he'd been with his caretaker and the last time when he'd asked about possibly switching England had told him that colonies don't get that role in lovemaking. It was too dominant, especially when considering an empire like England would be bottom.
"Oh, you poor soul." France pulled him into a soft hug, stroking the back of his neck soothingly while his free arm wrapped possessively around a slim waist. "To always have been beneath a brute like England, it must have been a nightmare!"
"Well no, I didn't want to try it at first." America admitted tentatively, arms wrapping around the older nation after a moments pause. France smelled good, he noted as his nose pressed in against a warm, soft neck. Like a freshly washed girl with pretty scents in his hair. It's a nice feeling to be held by the older man, too. England hadn't given him a hug since he was still shorter than the empire. "But the last couple of times I did and he said no..."
"I will correct this, oui?" France gave a light peck to America's pulse point before pulling back and dexterously beginning to unbutton his shirt. He smiled at the dumbfounded look that came across the American's face, the expression still not enough to hide the tell-tale sight of eager lust in his eyes.
"You don't have to. I'm used to it and it still feels good." America's voice was sincere even as his eyes hungered for what the Frenchman had offered. While he knew he was in good hands letting France top, knew it wiould feel good, he can't help but want to try out the unknown. He longed for experiences he'd never felt before, sensations and heights he'd never achieved. He craved it.
"Non." France slipped the shirt off tan, well worked shoulders with a discrete lick of his lips. It wasn't going to be a hardship letting this young man inside of him. "No nation should be denied such pleasures. We are equals now, oui? I will let you have what England always withheld."
"Thank you." America responded with the most charming smile France had ever scene on any man, woman or child. It was highlighted by boyish shyness and underscored with a man's lust, polished off with his ever present eagerness. It was all together enough to make the Frenchman melt inside.
"It is my pleasure." France purred the words and continued undressing America, removing his top and beginning to undress himself, shrugging off his fine coat and laying it atop the other blond's. He lifted his hands to begin on his undershirt, back to the young nation to give him some privacy to look if he chose so.
He only got the first two buttons undone before a warm chest brushed his back, strong arms wrapping around him and taking up the task with nothing more than a soft kiss to his nape and the feel of a warm face burying against his shoulder. France smiled at the affectionate gesture and didn't say a word, letting the nation behind him clumsily finish up and slowly slide the clothing away.
"Can I do the rest?" America asked, flushed cheeks still resting hidden against the others soft skin. He heard the Frenchman give a light chuckle and could sense him nodding by the brush of long, curly locks.
Gently urging France back towards the bed, America gracelessly removed his shoes and socks before pushing his pants down. He didn't meet the older nation's eyes as his aroused body was revealed by the tightened front of his last piece of clothing. He left them on, kneeling mostly naked in front of France and tenderly beginning to slide the man's stylish shoes off. He stroked the others calf lightly, kissing his knee as he peeled thin socks down and off.
His hands paused when he felt the other nation's feet, surprised to feel that they were just as soft and silky and taken care of as the rest of the blond's body. The realization made him smile, resting his forehead against the older countries knee while he drummed his fingers across the bottom of his foot, caressing and stroking and just enjoying the novelty of it.
"Enjoying yourself, mon amour?" France chuckled at the unexpected reaction, toes wiggling whenever the playful touches became ticklish. He smiled lightly when the young nation looked up guiltily, cheeks an adorable red and blue eyes nervous at being caught. "It is alright, Amerique. You may worship and play with my body as much as you'd like, ohonhonhon."
America positively beamed at that, too happy to have been given full reign over exploring the others body to remember to be embarrassed or modest. He's always wanted to take his time touching and feeling England's body, but the empire always got impatient with him. England's skin isn't as soft as France's, either. He wants to feel if the older man is like this all over; if he feels different from England to his hands and lips and tongue.
With this in mind he eagerly hooked his fingers into France's pants, undressing the man down to just the one piece of clothing like what he himself was wearing. He kissed and licked all the way down as he did it, nuzzling a strong thigh and mouthing at a kneecap just because he could. His hands removed the pants from the Frenchman's ankles and tossed them off to the side, heedless of anything but giving them a general direction before he was licking at the lithe muscle of France's calf and sucking on the bone of his ankle.
"You are so affectionate, mon amour." France sighed softly, enjoying the wash of attention being given to his body. He was loving it immensely. Being the center of attention was always a great way to spend time in bed and watching a person enjoying his body so thoroughly was intoxicating.
"You're so soft." America rubbed his cheek against his shin and began kissing his way back up the others body until he was kneeling between spread legs. He wrapped his arms around France's waist and nuzzled his stomach, stroking the curve of the older nation's spine adoringly. "And you smell so nice. And you're actually letting me touch you!"
"Angleterre did not let you touch him?" France placed a hand in golden hair, idly ruffling the already mussy locks. He didn't see how anyone wouldn't want the handsome young man to touch them everywhere imaginable.
"He did, but only enough to get undressed and a little bit for fun. He's not very patient." America replied with a slight frown, arms tightening around the Frenchman. "And we never did it when it was light outside, or with the lights even on! You're so different from him when it comes to this."
"Mon dieu!" France held the young nation close, cooing softly to him as he pet his hair comfortingly. "No wonder you are so excited from such simple things. You are deprived of l'amour!"
"Ah...très oui." America murmured playfully in response, glancing up at the older nation with a sweet little smile. A lot of his political figures were fascinated by this very nation and all of his arts and cultures and especially his language. He'd even been taught how to speak it, in secret. He was still fairly clumsy with the pretty language, but he could understand it spoken to him and make passable conversation.
"Oh? You are a true delight, Amerique!" France smiled winningly and urged the young country up off his knees for a kiss, pulling him onto the bed and encouraging him to lie out on top. Their groins met this way and he could feel the heated excitement of youth against his own strong arousal. From the way America tensed and then squirmed purposefully against him France wasn't the only country to notice the joys of this position.
They kissed again, America continuing to roll his hips against the older nation until the man finally broke the contact with a little laugh of amusement and pleasure.
"If you take our clothing off, that will feel much better mon petit Amerique." France murmured softly, running hands down the muscular back of the man above him. He smiled when the American gave him a look that was a mix of embarrassment, hope and disbelief, leaning up to kiss him on the nose. "I will not mind being naked with you in the slightest."
"Alright." America couldn't help but sound a little tentative, moving to pull off the last of the barriers anyway. He blushed when he saw the others length, fully hard and unashamedly jutting up into the sunlight filling the room. It was erotic and the thought of touching it made his own stiffen further. He glanced up at France, licking his lips a little before looking away, unsure of himself. "Can I...I'm still allowed to touch, right?"
"Oui, oui!" France couldn't help but laugh a little at how hungry the other nation looked just then. The young man was utterly adorable! "You may touch to your hearts content. I will tell you if you do something I do not like, but that is very hard, for I enjoy many things within the bedroom."
America nodded at that and leaned over the older nation's groin. He let his hand trail up the smooth column of flesh, rubbing the underside with his knuckle before gripping. Giving it a light tug he was rewarded with a low moan from France, the sound so obviously sexual and devious. It reminded him of how lewd it was, the things they were doing, but it didn't stop him. He isn't under England's control anymore and if he wanted to do bad things with the Frenchman then he would! In broad daylight even!
As his hand steadily pumped up and down America watched avidly, observing everything about the act and committing it to memory, just because he knew he shouldn't be staring at such an obscene thing. England would throw the biggest fit if he knew and it made America grin and stroke faster.
"Ah, Amerique...if you do not stop, we won't get to the good part for a while more." France warned, the delicious burn of the young nation's firm grip coupled with his intent focus making the simple handjob much more arousing than it should have been. He smiled warmly when blue eyes lifted to meet his own, a blush of pleasure adorning his cheeks. "I will play with you for as long as you'd like, mon petit Amerique, but I just thought you should know."
"Yeah..." America removed his hand, licking away the sticky fluid that had leaked onto his thumb and forefinger. He hummed as he did it, enjoying the sweet, salt-tangy flavor that lit across his tongue as he did so. "Do you have oils?"
"Mhm, but of course." France nodded, eyes dark. The image of America so casually licking his pre-cum off his hands will haunt his fantasies for the rest of his years, he's sure. He leaned over to the bedside table and retrieved what was asked for, holding it out to the young nation.
America took the bottle with a murmured thank you, coating his fingers generously before lining them up at the Frenchman's entrance. He looked up to the older man, biting his lower lip the slightest bit.
"Just put one in at a time and move them around until they slide easily. I will tell you when I'm ready." France saved him the embarrassment of saying any of his doubts or asking any uncomfortable questions. He smiled reassuringly and spread his legs, lifting one hand to bury in coarse hair, bringing America down for another kiss.
The first finger slid in slowly, hesitantly. France gave a slutty moan of encouragement so that America would know he's doing it right, though to France one little finger was certainly not enough stimulation. It worked beautifully though, as the finger almost immediately began to move in and out and in no time a second was added, followed by a third at France's urging.
America was a good listener when it came to some things.
"Mm, that is good, Amerique." France sighed softly, hips rocking onto the fingers buried deep inside of him. The rough pads of the soldiers fingers feel good against his sensitive insides, but he knows it will be better with something else nudging at his sweet spot. "I'm ready."
Nodding and taking his fingers out, America took the time to rub the oil along himself with only a slight hiss of pleasure from finally touching himself. He looked down at France and smiled a little, that same smile he'd used before that was caught between bashful and lusty. It made the Frenchman want to kiss his breath away each time he saw it.
"I'm sorry if I'm not as good as your usual lovers." America apologized, knowing the romance country was well versed in the arts of sex. He lined himself up and began sliding in after a pause. He fluttered his eyes shut from the tight heat, the oil making it slick and delicious as he moaned from the bottom of his chest.
"You are more than perfect, mon petit Amerique." France groaned a little himself when the young nation pushed in, his hands gripping the sheets. Young does not equate to small and America is a perfect example of that.
"Gods..." America could hardly breath past the pleasure of so much friction and pressure. His hips wiggled, instinctively wanting to start rocking but just barely remembering that he should really wait, let France adjust. England may have been impatient but he always gave America time to adjust.
"Mmm." France smirked devilishly at the blissful expression adorning America's face. He tightened his stomach muscles and squeezed his inner muscles around America, rocking his hips with force and pulling the strong nation down on top of him when the young man moaned throatily. France nibbled the shell of his ear, purring his words. "It's alright to move, Amerique. I will not break."
The words are all America needed to start thrusting, letting instinct take over since he could barely remember what England did to him in the wake of what France was doing to him. He couldn't think of anything but the suffocating grip along the full length of his arousal, the way the thighs he'd been kissing and sucking earlier wrapped around his waist, or the way the sophisticated fingers tangled in his messy hair and pulled him in for kiss after kiss after kiss. It was all so good and too much and he could already feel himself building up for the bliss that usually took long minutes under England's care to achieve.
"F-france!" America moaned the nation's name as he hit his peak, hips snapping forward to bury completely inside the other as he shot out a continuous pulse of thick fluids. He was so far gone in his own pleasured world he didn't feel one of France's hands leave his body, traveling between them and stroking rapidly.
The American slumped on top of the other, breathing quick and little shudders wracking his entire frame from head to toe. He nearly fell asleep like that, arms wrapping around the older nation and nose finding its way to the crook of an elegant neck, ready to drift off just like that if not for the way France was lightly shaking his shoulder.
"Mm?" America looked up eventually, blue eyes hazy and unfocused with pleasure. The look made France chuckle, patting the young nation's cheek lightly.
"Let me up, Amerique. We need to clean before we sleep." The Frenchman laughed when all he got was a soft grunt and the American pulling out with a look of lingering pleasure before rolling over. He leaned across the tanned body and gave the sleepy nation a soft kiss, pulling back only to have strong fingers weave into his luscious, curling locks.
"Can we do that again, please?" America flushed lightly as the words came out but held France's gaze with the confidence of someone who's just experienced the pleasure of sex the way they like it. "Before I have to go?"
"Of course, mon petit Amerique." France smiled and leaned down to kiss his lover's sweaty forehead affectionately. "I will let you top as often as you want."
The young American smiled beautifully at that and closed his eyes, completely content and at peace with the world.
Please leave a review if you liked it ;D I'd like to know what everyone's favorite part was, if you don't mind. I just am always really curious about it because I always have favorite parts in stories when I read fanfiction/books so. Please and thanks, love you allllllll :D