Fire [FrUk Fanfiction]

Embers

Ah yes, that time is here, Christmastime and time to post again! Sorry this update took so long guys, you must be tired of waiting. :/ I do hope it's worth it though, as this story is fun to write. Quick warning, this chapter contains a bit of lemon! Merry Christmas, and may everybody have a wonderful time reading this outrageously gay chapter :)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two weeks had passed, and Arthur had been avoiding Francis. Stayed home, refused to leave. He couldn't face Francis out of fear, fear that it would be the last time they'd see each other, fear that he'd have a breakdown, fear that Francis would slip through Arthur's fingers before it was too late. But, he knew, he'd have to face Francis eventually, regardless of his fear. There was one last thing Arthur wanted to do before Francis left him, and it would require something Arthur absolutely hated doing, something he called atrocious, something he never pictured himself doing after his punk days came to an end: he would have to break a rule.

After school, Arthur did not return to his flat. Instead, he took a bus to Francis's part of town, knowing Francis wouldn't be home until later. He entered the apartment building and went to Francis's floor, then slid out a little lockpick and opened his door. Quickly running into the room, he slammed the door behind him and nearly giggled with the adrenaline rush; he'd never broken and entered before, and knowing Francis wouldn't object, he was okay with it. Arthur swallowed a little, then very slowly entered Francis's bedroom. He hardly breathed as he removed his own clothing and then lay down in Francis's bed. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he anxiously awaited Francis's arrival home; minutes felt like hours. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Francis enter, set down a few grocery bags, then sigh softly and shuffle into his room.

Francis's eyes widened at Arthur lying nervously in his bed. "M-mon amour...why are you..."

Arthur hushed him softly. "Francis?" His voice quivered. "I want you to take me."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Francis's clothes were off in a second, strewn across the floor carelessly. "Are you sure, mon amour?"

"Yes, and I told you to stop calling me that! It's 'my love,' no need to rub in your perfect French accent compared to my bloody British slur." Arthur's confidence pleased Francis, and the Frenchman raised his eyebrows. Sliding into bed with Arthur, Francis realized how hard the poor Brit was trembling. He slid his fingers around Arthur's ears and cupped his face in his hands, then pulled him gently into a long, soft kiss. "I'm ready for this, Francis. I've been ready for a long time. It's just taken me too damn long to realize it."

Francis smiled a little. "You and I share that, then." He got onto his hands and knees, straddling Arthur. "I'll be gentle, I promise you. I'd never do anything to hurt you," Francis whispered, then pulled Arthur into another passionate kiss while entering him slowly. Arthur pulled away from Francis's lips and turned his head to the side to cry out, but Francis just ran his thumb over Arthur's thin lips to silence him. "Hush, Arthur." He whispered breathlessly, and Arthur nodded weakly.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis's back and attempted to move his hips to match the Frenchman's thrusts. In the end, he gave up the pitiful battle, and just dug his nails into Francis's skin and let groan after groan out into Francis's neck.

When Francis finished, he breathed out loudly and came onto the sheets. Arthur moaned out his name, but instantly regretted it; covering his cheeks and mouth, he tried to hide his blush from the smirking Frenchman towering over him. Francis lay down at Arthur's slide and loosely held his hand under the blankets. "I love you, Arthur. I honestly do. Please don't forget that, or....forget me."

Arthur smiled softly, and let his eyes slip shut. "I promise, Francis. Even when you're gone, my heart will still belong to you. It always will." And then Arthur began to drift off, puzzled at how just a few months ago, he'd been a rude, cold Brit, disassociating himself with social connections and refusing to fall in love; and now, just a short time later, he was falling asleep in the hands of his dearly beloved, dying partner.

A Frenchman, of all people!