Hetalia Smut Stories

UkFr - Fed Up

England hummed as he worked on his needlepoint in the quiet of the room. A roaring fire, a cozy sofa, relaxing work... nothing could make this day bad.

Thump, thump, thump.

England stiffened suddenly, hearing footsteps in a nearby room. Who could it be?
America? No, too quiet.
Sealand? Still too quiet.
France?

...hopefully it was a murderer instead.

He stood up with a huff and walked into the neighboring kitchen, not at all surprised to see the back of a long-haired blond man snooping around in his cupboards.

"Frog!", he called out, causing France to jump and whirl around. "What are you doing here??"

France narrowed his eyes. "You barely have any food."

England scoffed. "I have food."

"Barely any good food."

"You still haven't answered my question!", England shot back with gritted teeth.

France rolled his eyes at the Brit. "I always do this, mon ami. Have you forgotten?"

Sighing heavily, England walked over and pulled out a tea kettle. "Fair enough. Give me some warning next time though, so I can make tea in advance."

France watched his movements before leaning against the countertop. "I was thinking I could make dinner for us."

"Make dinner for us?", England asked, turning to look at France.

With a shrug, the Frenchman wandered closer to England. "Yes, make dinner."

England huffed and continued gathering ingredients for tea. "Like a date?"

He was met with silence. "I told you frog, I'm not doing that again with you!"

France gazed at the Englishman and got closer, gently placing his fingertips on England's hips. England froze, but he didn't shove France away.

"You said that the time before last. And before that, and that one, and that one..."

England shook his head and quickly walked to the stove. "Well, I really meant it this time. No more hookups and little flings. No more breakups. I'm tired of it."

France sighed. "I'm tired of it too, but-"

Whirling around, England met his gaze angrily. "Then why are you asking? Do you only want sex? We go to dinner, we fool around and confess our attraction after drinking ourselves silly, and we have sex for a week before we end it because 'other countries might find out' or 'we just can't find the time' or we fight again and stop speaking!"

France was silent, and he looked at the ground, his cheeks burning.

Shaking his head, the Englishman turned back around. "I'm sorry Francis, but I'm tired of breaking up over and over."

"Then we won't break up ever again."

England turned to look at him. "You know that we can't just prevent that."

France frowned. "We can at least fully commit. Angleterre, I love you, truly."

England's cheeks flushed red instantly. France has never told him that. Their confessions had always been along the lines of "I've always liked you" or "I think you're very hot."

The Brit stepped forward awkwardly. "Do you mean that? Or do you just want sex?", he asked.

"I mean it," France replied. "We don't even need to have sex tonight, or the next day, as long as we can be together..."