Mon Pauvre Américain

My Poor American

[One shot! FrUSA! Yaoi!]

"Dudes, y'all need to chill," the laid-back American said.

"America! Take this seriously!" the head of the World Conference meeting, Germany, yelled.

"America, this matter is very serious. The least you can do is actually pay attention to it," England said sternly, patronizing the young nation.

America sighed and held his carefree smile. "Alright, alright . . . Jeez, sorry." He did care about global warming. He loved polar bears and penguins, and all those other arctic animals and scenery. But it's not like he can change the fact that it's happening, although he is helping save the arctic animals.

"America," France whispered next to him. America looked towards the other blonde man. "Are you alright?" the French man asked.

"Yeah, I'm all good. No problem here," he whispered back. That was a lie. He was actually on the verge of tears. His jaw clenched.

Soon right when the meeting was over, America left quickly. "Good day, peeps!" he rushed out of the room and returned home as quickly as possible.

"Does everyone have to be so . . . mean to me? Sure, I'm a bit immature, but I can't help it," America said between sobs. "And that damn French . . . I felt as if he saw right through my mask . . ." he took a bite out of his Big Mac and a sip from his soda. He cried some more before pausing to blow his nose.

"If . . . if only those fuckers knew how hard I work to keep my country living well. Everyone depends on me and I-I'm always happy to help, I'm the hero . . . So . . . why do they treat me like shit?"

There was a knock to his office door. America, startled, began to clean himself up. He washed his face, damped his puffy eyes, threw out his finished meal, and put on his game face. He walked over to the door.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's me, France," the voice said through the door. The young nation held his grunt and opened the door, allowing the Frenchman to come into his office.

"Hey, France. What's up?"

"I wanted to know how you were doing . . ." France looked down at the floor. "I-I was actually standing by the door, so . . . I heard everything." The French then looked up only to see a shocked American. The young man was taken aback.

"O-Oh . . . Uh-T-That was . . . n-nothing," he protested.

"Is it true, America?" the older man asked, stepping closer to America, invading his boundaries.

"I-Is what true, France?" He didn't understand why, but the American was beginning to feel heated.

"Are you not accepted? Do we patronize you?" the French's arms suddenly wrapped themselves around the American's waist. "Tell me . . . Are you lonely?"

"D-Dude . . . W-What the hell are you talking about?" he asked. France dug his hand under America's waistband, making the man gasp. "F-France!" The older man moved his hand lower until he felt America's half hard member. "W-W-What are you—Ah~!" A wave of pleasure washed over him. America was breathing heavily. "A-All of a sudden . . . you're doing this?" The Frenchman didn't answer and continued to place gentle, rough kisses over the other blonde's neck and chest.

"I've always had my eye on you. Watching you from afar. And now, I want to claim what's now mine this moment—"America tried to protest but the French tightened his grasp on his member, having the glasses-wearing man scream out, begging to be let go. "I'll brand you, mon amour," he whispered hotly by the American's ear.

"France, p-please. S-Stop . . . that hurts. L-Let go!" America stuttered. He tried to push away, but the Frenchman suddenly became more aggressive with each fight he was putting up. "You're supposed to be a nice and gentle love-maker! Why're you being such a strong and fierce animal?—AH!—F-France!"

The younger male was panting hard. He had been stripped down to his boxers until they were finally removed. France held an unbelievably tight grasp on America's wrists, staining them red. "T-That hurts!" he cried. France carried America over to a couch that was in the dimly lit office. He slammed the younger one on it and hopped on him before he could escape.

"America," he said deeply. America looked at the lust filled man. He rubbed at his wrists,a tear escape his eye.

"I did say I'll claim you. I now own every part of you. That definitely includes this—" the French grabbed the American's member by surprise and began to stroke him.

"F-F—France!" America cried out in shaky breaths. France looked down at the American and chuckled.

"Ohohon~. So beautiful," he leaned down and forced a kiss upon the American's lips. America moaned into the warmth that covered his lips. He slightly flinched when he felt France's tongue enter his mouth, ready to explore.

France wanted to hear America make more of those addicting noises of pleasure. He bit down on the bottom's earlobe softly and groaned deeply into his ear. "Alfred, call my name." he continued to suck on Alfred's neck, hard, making sure to have a hickey appear soon. Alfred, underneath him, began to spaz out from the touches he felt against his sensitive body.

"Francis!" Francis looked at Alfred with ready eyes.

"Oui?" the French asked in a deep voice.

"I . . . I want more . . ." Alfred said shyly. Francis bent down to close in the space between both of their faces.

"Oh? And what is it that you want? Perhaps, inside, mon amour?" Francis licked along Alfred's jawline. Alfred moaned softly.

"Y-You. I want you, Francis. I want you inside me," Alfred moaned lovingly. Francis nodded and sat back.

"Of course." He spread the naked man's legs wider than they already were and enjoyed the view. Alfred blushed like crazy and covered his lower areas.

"D-Don't look!" Francis removed the hands slowly and smirked, kissing the American's hands softly.

"Oh, but I already have." He looked around the room and let out a little sigh. "It seems that we have no lube, Alfred. What shall we do?"

"Just . . . fuck me already," Alfred said through gritted teeth. He thought it'd be better to just get it over with. He didn't want this, but now he does. And he'd rather take it like a man; he doesn't need lube . . . even though he knows what pain he will feel sooner or later.

"Oh really? So . . . it wouldn't hurt if I did this?" Francis shoved two fingers, not slippery at all, into Alfred's virgin hole. He yelped in pain, a tear escaped his shaky eyes. His glasses were getting wet.

"You asshole!" Francis ignored him and proceeded to dig his fingers in deeper, stretching out the hole that way he'd have easier access. He entered another finger, making Alfred lay his head back as he groaned at the unusual feeling which sent pangs of pleasure through his body to his cock.

"Francis . . ." he looked up at the older man who was focused on stretching him. "Take . . . Texas off . . ." he said, breathless. Francis smiled and shook his head.

"Do it yourself. I'm busy." Alfred was flushed again and stubbornly threw his glasses at the Frenchman's face.

"Stop teasing me!" At that moment, Francis stopped what he was doing and exited his fingers from Alfred. He stared at him with no expression in which the younger one had questioned: Did I do something wrong?

"Be still. If it hurts, I won't stop, I'll keep going until you get what you want," Francis said unzipped his fly, pulling out is own throbbing member and positioned himself at Alfred's hole.

"W-Wait! You just said you won't stop. What the hell does that—Ah!" Francis pushed himself in until he was all in, feeling the tight heat and muscles clamp down on him. He looked at Alfred who bit his lip hard, trying not to let out any noises of what he was feeling, immense pain. Alfred took a deep, shuddering breath until he nodded at Francis, giving him the go.

Francis began to move steadily until he increased the pace. He noticed that the American only looked like he was in pain, he changed that once he began to pump Alfred. The other man's chest began to heave as he was breathing hard. He was feeling pain and pleasure. He was getting sick of this two-by-two.

"F-Francis—" the American screamed as he felt a load of pleasure, ecstasy, wash over him. Francis smirked and admired the scene. It seems he had hit his lover's prostate. He hit against that spot again and Alfred jerked, unable to handle the waves he was feeling. He felt as if . . . as if . . . oh God, he didn't know what. The French was making him feel so good.

"It seems I've accomplished my goal. Although, Alfred . . ." he brought the American up to his face and kissed him gently, licking his bottom lip, caressing his thighs. "We're not done yet." Alfred moaned at the French's words. He couldn't stand it any longer. He grabbed the overpowering man by his long blonde locks and kissed him with such lust and began to move his body against the older man's. He wanted him. Alfred really wanted Francis. He wanted to feel him.

"M-More!" he continued to kiss him, grind himself against the man. He lowered himself down on the French's member, trying to get more of him inside. "Francis!"

Francis blushed slightly. He didn't expect Alfred to react this way, but he would never deny this opportunity. After all, he was such a loving man.

Francis grinded hard against the American, leaning him back down against the couch as he continued to ram into Alfred's body, sending ecstasy through both of their bodies.

"Alfred!" he licked the tip of his lover's member and watched as Alfred's body arched into Francis's touch. Francis continued to lick while thrusting in at the same time. Alfred was almost to his climax.

"Ah!—Francis!—Ngh!—I-I'm coming!" Alfred screamed out as he let himself come into Francis's mouth. A moment later, Francis had cum inside of Alfred, filling every bit of his load inside of the smaller one.

They both lay down on the couch breathing heavily. Alfred lay atop of Francis, snuggling against the man's lightly haired chest. Alfred yelped quietly as he felt something leaking from his ass onto this thigh. He looked up at the French and smiled softly.

"Thank you, Francis. . . . For making me feel better." He pushed himself up a little to kiss the Frenchman's lips. Francis caressed the side of Alfred's body and kissed his forehead.

"You are welcome, mon amour."



"What does 'mon amour' mean?" Alfred asked. Francis smiled.

"It means, 'my love.'"

"I love you, Francis." Alfred blushed deeply as he said it.

"Ohohon~. Je t'aime aussi, Alfred." He kissed Alfred on his lips once more before deciding they should both go to sleep for the rest of the night.