Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, the show and all of the characters belong to Hidekazu Himaruya.

Warnings: France. Does anything else really need to be said? I think he covers all topics of the smut and lemon contained in this fic xD

This one is for my Francis, I hope you all enjoy it! Please R&R, it means a lot to hear what you guys think, even if just a short review that would take a few seconds of your time, thanks so much ^-^

"May I have that bottle of wine now?"

That one question England knew without a doubt would lead him into a night with that bloody frog that wasn't exactly what he was in the mood for at the time. But after that bottle of wine. . .he probably would be. It was with much unwillingness that the Brit uttered these words, but in all honesty, England really just wanted a buzz, and soon.

It had been much too long a day, full of arguing, paperwork, and the dreary feeling you get after many sleepless nights. But as was expected of the last day of many in a world conference meeting. And now, England was irritated, fussy, and absolutely bothered. So he was at the wine freak's house, the reason why he agreed to go with that perverted bastard was now unfathomable.

"Ohonhonhon!" France reached over across the kitchen table where they both currently resided and ruffled his blonde hair so that it became even messier than it was originally. "Tu est trop mignon, mon Angleterre! Eet's in the wine cellar, third on ze right." The Frenchman smirked at England who simply patted his hair back down with an annoyed look.

"Call me cute again and I'll throw the empty wine bottle that's left at your head," he replied curtly, then got up and walked out into the hall. Sighing, France settled himself in the chair and said quietly, "Zis is going to be one fun night."

Eventually finding his way to the wine cellar, England strolled through the racks of wine, searching on the right side for that one bottle of red wine the frog had offered to him earlier and he was now accepting. Believing he had found the correct bottle, England scanned the cellar for any sign of a cork screw. Finding one, plunged the sharp tip into the cork, and pulled it out quickly, releasing a wonderful scent from the bottle.

Making his way back up the stairs, England brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long slug and then savoring the exquisite flavor. Licking his lips of the rich red droplets, he muttered to himself, "Well I hate France, but he certainly does know how to make a good bottle of wine." Before he even made it back to the kitchen, England found himself hiccupping and brandishing a half empty bottle.

France watched as the Briton waltzed back in the room, nursing the bottle of what he knew was quite potent stuff indeed. Raising an eyebrow at France's amused look, he lowered his drink and said with a tone of discontent, "Back frog."

"Enjoying that?" Hiccupping again, England proceeded to reassume his seat. "Quite." He said this sourly, and as he had predicted before, was slowly getting more and more bothered and hot with the alcohol affecting his brain. England then took another big sip from the quickly emptying bottle.

France reached over once again, and ran his fingers slowly through England's hair, whispering seductively in his ear, "Don't waste it now. Gulp it slowly, savor it while you still have it." To this England responded by lazily pushing the hands fondling his head away.

"Sh-shut it, I-I'll drink however I bloody want to!" This was followed by a hiccup, once again presenting how increasingly intoxicated the blonde was. He could still tell just how France was playing him though, and knew exactly where the bastard was leading him.

"Give me zat." France suddenly snatch the bottle right out of England's hands, then went on to gulp the small amount of alcohol left in the bottle. Licking his lips, he returned it with a coy look on his face.

"I was right, aged perfectly, non?" Then he leaned over and kissed the apparently dumbfounded Brit on the forehead. At first England just stared blankly at the empty bottle. But then he glared angrily at France.

"I was going to drink that you wanker!" Still shooting daggers out his eyes, the heavily intoxicated blonde continued muttering curses at the man sitting across the table as that man chuckled. Now England was fussy, drunk, slightly horny, and filled with rage that France could only describe as endearing.

"Mmm well I think zare might be another in ze cellar. . .not zat you need it." Giving a sly, seductive smile at England, he thought about how cute it was when the tsundere blushed, even though it was blushing in anger right now, then went on to imagine the same blush on England's face when the Brit was underneath him, panting and moaning his name.

"Well I'm already drunk, you bastard, so I guess you got what you wanted." Scowling, he scooted a little farther away from France, fully aware of what was probably going to go on next, but still wanted to delay it as much as possible. Frowning, France thought to himself how this was taking much longer than he had planned. He needed his Angleterre, and soon.

"Y'know what? Screw eet." And with that, he leaned across the table and pulled England into a passionate kiss, mashing their lips together and feeling the warmth of the Brit's mouth, something he had not experience in a while. England was surprised by the kiss, but instead of fighting it like normal, he gave in to the sudden attack on his senses and greedily kissed back before pulling away suddenly.

Gasping, he tried to catch his breath. "Bloody hell Francis! What the fuck are you doing!" France simply wiped his mouth off, completely ignoring the comment.

"You taste like champagne, mon cher."

"Yea and you taste like red wine and booze." he responded flatly. Although he was trying to put up some resistance to all this, at this point England didn't really want to. If anything, he was doing it for his male pride, but that was as good as if it had been thrown out the window already given the number of times he'd been in this situation with France, hadn't it? So, with a sigh, he decided to just give in and have some fun. He was going to play with the Frenchman a little.

With that in mind, England slid the empty wine bottle over and ran his index finger around the inside rim of it. Then, he licked the red droplet slowly off the digit, gazing at Francis with half lidded eyes the whole while.

Obviously, France caught on. "Ohonhon, mon cher are you trying to seduce me?" He traced a finger along the Brit's cheekbone, enticing a shiver at the touch, but England couldn't help a faint smirk.

"I don't quite know what you could be talking about." he said, running his tongue delicately along his bottom lip. But the tightening in France's pants proved that England's act was working perfectly. He couldn't help but admit that the Brit was turning him on more than ever with the hungry, lustful looks that were pointed at him.

Chuckling, France leaned in again slightly and said in a low growl, "No? You couldn't possibly be talking about this, could you?" and then cupped England's face in his hands and brought them both into another kiss. Kissing back forcefully, he only broke away to mumble out, "Perhaps." Then, joining their lips back together, he pushed France back into his chair, and started to crawl onto the small dining room table, all while staying with their faces locked.

Stopping briefly for air, France said lovingly, "Silly drunk." England took this opportunity of an open entrance to slide his tongue into the other's mouth. Their tongues entwined, wet muscles sliding over each other trying to explore the hot caverns. Almost leaning so far into France he fell over, England grabbed his shoulder for support and combated, "S-shut it, I-I can hold my liquor better than you any day. . ."

"Yeah, obviously." The sarcasm was quite evident in France's voice, but England ignored this and leaned in closer, placing a finger on France's chest. The man's shirt was partly open, as usual, which gave England a great view of the nicely toned chest before him. All the kissing and such was starting to make England's pants uncomfortably tight as well, and it was time to suggest something a little more.

"Soooo. . ." He paused to hiccup, but then resumed, grinning widely. "You've got me here, wasted, and horny in front of you. . .what do you want to do now?" France paused for a second to think.

"Hmmm, zat all depends. . ." Leaning close to England ear he whispered, "Couch, bed or hot tub?" Muttering back, he replied, nibbling gently on France's ear, "Well, hot tub would be nice. . .that is, if we're not wearing our swim shorts." France's face widened in a grin, and sat England better up on the table before rising.

"Mmmm okay. Hang on, let me go start eet." With that France exited toward the bathroom, and England could soon hear running water. But now the brit was lonely and looked around for something to occupy his drunk ass with in the meantime. Deciding it was getting awfully hot, he removed his jacket with a shiver. Within a few minutes France called from the bathroom, "Eeeets ready!"

Walking down the hall, England opened the door and took in the sight. The bathroom looked gorgeous, naturally decorated with lit candles and assorted flowers. Bubbles cascaded down the sides of the dangerously full tub, and in the midst off all that was the Frenchmen, only his knees and face visible.

"Mmmm, looks nice." Wanting to tease France a little more, as he didn't get to do much of that before, he began to strip in front of his partner for the night, and there wasn't anything France could do but watch. England slid his tie off, whipping it so that it cracked on his thigh, letting a hiss escape from mixed pain and pleasant tingling sensation. Then turned around and began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it harshly down his back all at once, exposing the smooth white skin. Now the only thing left on was the low riding jeans and union jack boxers peeking out.

And then he started to take those off too. France's cock twitched as the englishmen's perfect ass came into view, getting even harder when the bastard gave his hips a little wiggle, the movement going straight to his crotch. Smirking at the obviously turned on man in the tub, England turned around and climbed in before France could get any further eye candy. Now they were both emerged in the hot bubbles.

"A-aah, it's hoooot" he moaned out, sliding up against France. France pulled him into his arms and England gasped softly at the sensation of bare skin touching. "You'll get used to eet." The brit huddled closer, letting his hot breath float over France's neck, which was barely above water.

"Yea, well you better get used to the rising temperature." England trailed his fingers up France's leg through the water, suddenly grabbing a hold of his hardened length, giving a little squeeze and gaining a moan from the other man's lips. France then started to move his hands from England's chest where they had settled, to much lower, almost feeling England's inner thigh while he himself tried to keep from groaning out loud while his cock was being fondled. While those long skillful fingers began teasing more and more instead of touching him where he needed it the most, England blushed and bit his lip to keep any sounds from escaping and tried desperately to concentrate on what he was doing.

"Oi, eets slowly getting warmer, non?" France managed to gasp out.

"Quite Francis, quite." He removed his hands to slide them around France's back, getting a disappointed whimper, but that was lost in a groan when England began kissing and sucking at France's neck hungrily while sliding his hands down to grab the man's ass, getting a surprised squeak from the action.

"A-ah! Angleterre, your being ambitious tonight, mon cher!"

England drifted away from the now marked up neck and looked at France lazily with lust glazed eyes. "Too much talk."

"Mmm." France grabbed England's face, kissing him forcefully and ramming his tongue in to explore. While England was distracted with the current tongue war, France gently flipped England over, bubbles sloshing, and turned his head sideways to be able to keep the kiss. Breaking for air, France then put three fingers in front of England's mouth. They were in water but France knew it wasn't enough. England immediately took the digits in his mouth, sucking them wonderfully until he saw fit, then with his other hand France tilted the other's ass in the air a bit, the gorgeous cheeks covered in suds.

France locked England in another passionate kiss before sliding in the first digit moving slowly to let England get used the feel, though the blonde still trembled under the touch. Soon another finger was added, and France scissored the entrance for awhile before pushing deeper, loving the feel of England moaning and shaking while he finger fucked him. By the time the third finger was added, France knew he had found his prostate by the way the Brit screamed out his name. Removing the digits to England's great disappointment, France then leaned down to nibble the panting England's earlobe. Between the heat of the water and the heat of preparation, it was a wonder the blonde hadn't come already.

"Are you ready, mon cher?" he purred in England's ear, causing England to shudder. "J-just fuck me already, dammit." he replied impatiently, kicking some water at the Frenchmen with his foot. Chuckling, France nodded and rubbed down his length with the precum he'd emitted from that arousing experience and the water and bubbles it had also been hit with.

England grabbed the edges of the tub for support, wiggling his ass at France as a motion to get on with it. He hadn't gotten this drunk and horny to be teased any longer. France got comfortable in the right position in the slippery water, and grabbing England's hips, he pushed hard into him, moaning at the heat that enveloped his length.

"AAAH!" England bit his lip as waves of pain and pleasure shot through his body like electric bolts as Francis continued to push until he was buried in to the hilt. Feeling England's walls writhing around him as the brit got comfortable was incredible, and England nearly bit his head off yelling at him to move already. Complying to this, France grunted and pulled out almost to the tip then rammed back in twice as hard as before, the noises coming from England's mouth delightful as he slowly built up a pace.

"F-fuck Francis!" he spat, starting to match thrusts with France, getting the full force of the blows as the pain slipped away to be replaced by utter ecstasy. His body was shaking and the amount of water spilling from the tub that they would have to clean up later was getting to be more and more as they continued.

France pulled England back, situating him so that he was on his lap, and England grabbed France's legs, impaling himself deeper upon France's length. France was sputtering French nonsense at this new development, overcome with pleasure, and felt England's walls tighten more around him when he screamed France's name, and he knew that he had found the Brit's sweet spot.

Pounding England's prostate harder, England's cries of "harder!" and "faster Francis, dear GOD" were getting louder. There were huge waves in the tub from the amount of movement they were making. Reaching around England's stomach, France grabbed his cock and began pumping it in time with their thrusts. England bucked into France's hand, vision going white as he was being pushed closer to the edge.

"A-ah, I can't hold on much longer- FRAAANCIS!" Then contractions from England's orgasm caused France to loose it too, and he shot his seed deep into the Brit. Panting, he slowly pulled out, sinking into the water (what was left of it) and pulling England into his arms once again.

"A-Arthur. . ." he muttered in between pants, "Je t'aime. . .je t'aime." England was out of breath too, and once calming down, looked at the damage they'd done in the tub and said, "Y-your gonna clean the hot tub tomorrow" and then he fell happily into France's hold, still breathing shallowly.

"Mmmm, but why? You made most of the mess." France nuzzled England's neck lovingly, teasing him with the statement and causing him to blush slightly.

"Well, yea, but my outfit for cleaning would just make you want to make another mess." England smirked before hiccupping yet again.

"Touche, mon Angleterre."

Yawning, he said, "Not that that's a problem, of course." France grinned widely and hugged England as the Brit fell asleep from exhaustion in his arms.