Chapter Text
“Hello?”
“Yes, Bonjour. It’s France.”
“Ah, dude… I’m surprised to hear from you…wait, ain’t this England’s phone??”
“Oui. I need you to take notes for him while he’s away, he won’t be attending this month’s conference.”
“…..How the HELL did you talk him into it??”
“…I have my ways. I won’t be attending either, though, so please be sure that your notes are thorough.”
“Ahhh shit….I bet you won’t be there, huh…”
“Yes…that’s right.”
“Alright. Good luck, Francis, my man…and stay hydrated!”
England hadn’t awoken yet, still clinging to France from their night together, his head leaned against a bare, fuzzy chest, arms embracing a pale waist, and his legs curled up beside the man he’d shared his bed with.
France ended his phone call with America quietly, careful not to wake his sleeping omega, his heart calmed by the soft purrs rippling from England’s throat as he slept.
He kept an arm draped behind England’s head, caressing his shoulder with his palm to keep him comfortable whilst in slumber, and looked over to watch the sunrise peeping through the blinds of England’s window.
It was best to go ahead and prepare for what was to come, now that it was morning time and the biological clock had started ticking in England’s body. France didn’t really understand or grasp the timeframe for when the effects of the suppressants would start to wear off, but he was going to be right there the moment England’s heat were to start. He went ahead and let America know that neither of them were going to be attending the upcoming conference, since this would be England’s first heat in several years and there was no predicting what he’d be going through when it arrives.
France recalled the information he’d gathered during his talks with Germany about when Italy would have his heat cycles, and a lot of times his weren’t that bad, in fact there were some where Italy could be trusted to handle on his own, but during that talk, it was rather obvious that Germany really liked being able to assist him when he was available to do so.
He couldn’t blame him. France loved when England was reliant on him, whether it was his company, or his physical touch, or his scent…it was a mutual enjoyment for the two of them. He was just a little nervous about how long it was going to take to get it out of his system once his heat started to change his body.
He himself believed he had the stamina. He could handle England, he’d proven that multiple times by now, pulling orgasms out of him wasn’t going to be an issue…what he held concern for was what the constant demand for a release of constantly tense, aroused muscles was going to do to England.
Was it going to eventually hurt him? Would he understand the difference between his bodily desires versus what he himself wanted from their sex? Most likely not, right? It was going to be an experience England never willingly allowed to happen naturally…
France cared about his wellbeing immensely. He cared about him in ways he never thought he would…his heart swelled to three thousand times its size when he was able to hold him, and reassure him that his emotions were valid, and to cuddle with him, soak him with his alpha pheromones…
He was ready for England to just come out and say it. He was ready for him to confess to being an omega so that they could love each other out loud. They’d gotten past the hard part, confessing to one another and acknowledging each others’ feelings, now England just needed to finally tell everyone who he really was.
He’d been replaying their night together nonstop, a core memory created from their first mutual declaration of love.
For England to admit that, after showing his nest and having a legitimate conversation about their future together…not to mention the bold move he’d made to finally wean himself off of his suppressants.
Honestly, he was kind of just stopping it abruptly by refusing to take them at all.
Was it necessarily safe for him to just quit cold turkey, though?
Did it matter if France was going to be there to help him?
Being inside England’s house felt strange…surrounding himself with nothing but England’s sweet, floral scent, similar to the note of jasmine tea or lavender honey, felt like such a treat. France was in actual heaven right now. He loved smelling England’s pheromones, he adored the fact that there were so many distinct variants of his smell, too.
His eyes helplessly craned down towards the man he held close to his body, watching his back expand and recede from each calm breath taken, his scent summoning a sense of tranquil for France as it had during the entire time he’d stayed.
He figured calling America ahead of time would be best. That way if anyone were to ask, someone would be there to keep others from questioning too much. One could easily assume that they’d both caught their rut at the same time.
But now his mind lingered to how much Hungary and Austria could have possibly known about the situation. He remembered feeling quite a bit of anger towards Hungary due to their previous conversation and the possibility of said talk influencing Austria to call England and effectively stress him out.
However, he wondered if England needed that push…maybe this would work out better than what France thought.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give Hungary a piece of his mind the next time he saw her, though. He still felt like she had a great involvement in Austria speaking to England. He was curious as to how their phone call went…maybe he’d ask about it when England was awake.
For now though, he’d fall back asleep.
******************
England’s eyes finally opened, greeted by the same wooded scent responsible for a full night’s sleep for once, snuggling his face into the hairs of France’s chin with a morning-time voiceless hum, and upon realization that his alpha had fallen asleep once more, his cheeks immediately grew warm as his eyes peered downwards to see that one part of his body wasn’t necessarily dormant.
He stared at the peak poking through the blanket they’d shared for the night, mouth watering at the thought of what lay underneath throbbing against his tongue, and momentarily glanced up to see that France was in deep sleep. His head still laid against a rising and falling chest, forehead pricked by the bristles of facial hair along France’s chin.
He looked…at peace. Did their night together provide him a similar opportunity to sleep without interruptions or the disturbance of loneliness as well?
France had been so adamant on seeing England that he’d come to his house and poured out his feelings right at his doorstep…he laid a lot of himself on the line for their relationship. England couldn’t ever forget that about him…
He couldn’t just not return the favor…France had been gentle with him all of this time. Even when in rut and he’d performed oral, there was still grace in his movements on that day….or perhaps England might have been reminiscing on a completely different series of events, though. He wasn’t too sure. It had all felt so good for him and the main takeaway was that he was introduced to a feeling never before experienced.
Besides, France had been spending a lot of their moments together pleasing England. He knew the older nation enjoyed pleasing others, but he deserved just as worthy of an orgasm.
And, to be completely honest…England had been dying to try giving oral. He knew that France was pretty thick, but the main concern was that he was rather long. While it gave rather exhilarating orgasms to have a cock that long reach far enough to touch his cervix, he was certain that it would prove to be a challenge fitting all of those inches into a rather inexperienced, British mouth.
….Fuck it. England was horny.
With a small smirk, England lifted up to peck France sweetly against his cheek while he slept, slithered under the blankets, and crawled down to where he could rest right in between hairy, lightly toned thighs, reaching up to slip his fingers into the band of the bright red boxers worn, and sliding them down for a long, girthy cock to fling from its restraints and nudge him at the tip of his nose.
….God, his cock smelled so good up close. The source of his scent blew into England’s face and immediately summoned a definitive thump in his clit, rousing a subtle clench of an opening already begging to be filled upon the release of pheromones clouding the Englishman’s brain.
A slight flinch in France’s thighs almost urged England to stop, until he watched precum bubble at the tip, glowing in the dim light peeking through the blanket from the morning sun.
Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips into the head of France’s cock, connected by a string of his fluids as he parted from it with a shuddered breath. With a careful hand he wrapped his fingers around it and stroked at a doable pace, laying on his stomach and resting his free hand onto France’s thigh.
He could hear the smallest whimper from the man above him, as he fisted him and concentrated on the silky, wet noise curated by the friction of his palm and uncut flesh.
He was almost hesitant to put his mouth on it. Looking at it up close, and feeling it jerk in his hand, he realized it was longer than what it felt when inside him.
Did that make England a slut, if he had anticipated it to be shorter due to feeling it in the clutch of warm walls previously?? Was his pussy loose??
It shouldn’t have mattered as long as it was only France fucking him, right?
Ah. Don’t think about it too much.
England slid his tongue from between his lips, brushing it around the tip in a sensual, teasing swirl, imitating what he recalled feeling France do to his clit from his unforgettable first experience with oral.
He felt France’s thighs clench up, his hips hovered upwards for just a moment, causing his sac to bunt lightly into England’s chin.
Fuck. His taint was warm. He could feel the slightest heartbeat too.
England lowered his head to lather saliva all over a swelled, pink head, unable to contain a low moan from the pulse against his tongue. His strokes quickened as he listened to a hushed groan escape France’s throat, sealing his lips onto a throbbing cock head to suckle deeply.
“….Mm…Arthur…!”
Oh good. He was awake.
Further encouraged by the erotic noise he’d managed to wrench out of him, England slowly slid his mouth further down the inches of a warm, twitching cock, hand still encasing the girth of what he couldn’t fit without the possibility of gagging.
With a muffled whimper, he slid his head up to start establishing a careful rhythm, cautious of his teeth to avoid hurting the man he pleased.
Half lidded azure eyes faced the ceiling of the bedroom, and France sunk a hand into the blanket to place his fingers into the roots of blond hair, gently guiding the mouth attempting to suck the life out of him.
Though sloppy and rather amateur, his technique was impressive. He seemed to try mimicking what he recalled feeling from that day he’d received oral from behind.
Hm…England was a quick learner- oh fuck, where’d he learn to twist his wrist like that in his stroke?? And was that drool coating his balls??
“Mm….merde…”
France had uncontrollably jerked his hips into the damp fist pumping him within the same rhythm of a godly tongue lapping the sensitive skin of his sac, coated in warm spit by the time England had slithered his mouth back to a pulsating tip so he could return to devouring him by the inches once more. Another soul catching moan thrummed against the cut flesh of France’s cock, his movements heavier and more erotic, slurping up a blend of saliva and precum with a greedy pop of his mouth losing its grip.
Ugh, God he sounded so slutty sucking him off like that. France didn’t doubt for a second that England was unbelievably wet, he gave that away with the sultry whimpers against the flesh in his mouth, and the slow rotation of his wrist from each stroke with intentions of further stimulating him.
What could he have possibly done for his oral skills to pay off that well??
Shit. When was the last time France had received a blow job that mind numbing and pleasing?
France’s head swam, his abdomen tightened and a surge of pleasure rang from the seam of his sac into the opening of his cock, and when sneaky fingers clamped onto his taint to squeeze, he threw his head against the pillows and closed his eyes tightly, fighting the urge to shove his hips into England’s mouth to push all of himself into a wet, hot throat.
….Well, it wasn’t so much “fighting it” anymore, as he instinctively but unknowingly pressed his palm until the back of England’s head to feel his mouth swallow just a few more inches, thrusting his lower body into the blissful cavern swallowing up each current of precum, and when he felt hands clamp onto his thighs for leverage, and the pace quickened, followed by weak, hushed moans vibrating through his sensitive skin, he felt his muscles start to clench with an oncoming orgasm.
Damn. England was good….he was good.
That sneaky fucking omega…hiding such stellar dick sucking skills…naughty…naughty…
Fuck, he was close.
“Mh…Mh, A-Arthur…!”
His voice shriveled into a shaky, feverish groan, a hard thrust sending the head of his cock into the back of England’s throat as he felt himself shoot cum directly in his mouth.
His volume eventually faded to heavy breaths, still coming from the breathtaking climax riddling through his body, not yet noticing that the man under him had managed to swallow most of what flooded his inner cheeks.
How…where the hell did England learn to suck cock like that…? What kind of mischief had he been up to in the past??
While France struggled to return to his consciousness, dragging slow gasps into his lungs and his eyes closed, England climbed from between his legs, emerged from the blanket, and laid on top of him, wiping the corner of his lips with the pad of his thumb and smirking down at the man he’d sucked dry, whispering to him quietly, “Good morning, my love.”
“H…how…did you learn to…?” France breathed, looking up towards his sneaky omega, “Wh-where did you learn a technique like that?”
“Well, when you’re sexually curious, don’t you just do research??” England teased, “Porn does exist, after all.”
“Hm. Then shouldn’t you have known how to make yourself come then?” France snickered with his own smile, “Or did you use that as an excuse to have sex with me that one time?”
England pouted. “You know I was being serious that time…I really didn’t know how to make myself cum the way I wanted to.”
France started to feel heat where England’s crotch rested onto his stomach, and the smell of arousal had swirled in the room long before that point.
He patted a pale thigh against his hips and asked in a low, velvet tone, “I can tell that you’re wet…is it your turn?”
England’s cheeks grew warm with color, and looked away from him with a frown as he stuttered, “I-I didn’t do that for anything in return…I’d already been a little turned on.”
“All the more reason to help you cum, no?” France offered with a smile, “Roll over on your back, Arthur.”
Though beyond flustered, England complied. He climbed from France’s waist and laid onto his back as asked, looking over at him as he stated, “You always please me…I just wanted to beat you to it for once.”
“You did,” France cooed to him, pulling his boxers back over his privates before leaning to hover over England, “But I’m sure you got horny while doing so…which is exactly why I enjoy doing it to you so much.”
He lowered his eyes once he’d laid close enough for their lips to barely touch, and whispered, “But you’re a lot needier than me, so I know you’ll whine and pitch a fit if I don’t touch you.”
England rolled his eyes and scoffed, “I don’t need you to always touch me. You make me sound like som- m…mhh~!”
He was easily cut off by a swift hand pressing into the wet, tempered seam of his black boxers, and with a mischievous grin, France finished his sentence as he laughed, “Like some whore??”
“I…I-I was going to say pervert.” England grunted, his hips rolling against the fingers touching the outline of full pussy lips, his eyes falling shut at the very same hand dragging through the cloth of damp underwear to rub his covered clit.
“Don’t you think you should wear something more comfortable?” France suggested with genuine concern, “Maybe panties would fit better for you?”
“N…no.” England answered, his eyes barely open, “I like how boxers fee…feel…fuck, w-wait..!”
His back arched from the mattress and his hand immediately grasped onto the wrist digging into the band of his boxers for skillful fingers to brush through sensitive slick folds, pausing to caress him from his clit down to where he lightly teased a clenching opening, and France watched England’s face melt into the same addictive expression he’d fallen for several times now.
“Huh? Don’t you want to cum?” France teased, “You’re wetter than you tried not to let on…I’ve seen your entire backside, and I’ve seen your nest, and suddenly you’re too good to tell me how wet I make you?”
England wanted to gripe at him for boasting out loud, quick to compare him to one of the more block headed alphas, but was easily silenced from two fingers plunging into his hole to curve into- oh, God, right there - into the spot that had been known to activate an inner layer of England’s libido.
“Ah, a-ahh, right there…!” He moaned softly, eyes closed as he squirmed and gripped tightly onto France’s wrist with his fingers.
“So quick to try and talk back, when you’re practically swallowing my fingers inside…you really are a brat, aren’t you?” France spoke amusedly, flicking his fingers to rub their pads into the spongy little space he’d mapped out several times.
He listened to England’s words scramble into incoherent slurred moans of “fuck” and “that’s it,” his thighs thrashing around and his free hand white knuckling the bedsheets.
France loved stealing the words out of such a cute mouth while knuckle deep in the velvet, drenched walls of a pussy he’d grow lost within over and over again. He loved feeling irresistible hips lift and roll with his established movements to catch each rub into a sensitive G-spot, listening to England’s insults quickly shift into needy pleas for more pressure or a faster rhythm.
Such a pleasant partner…a bratty little shit when he wanted to be, but ultimately a pleasant partner.
*buzz*
*buzz*
Fuck. Was that France’s phone?
….He’d get to it later. His attention had been grabbed by the high pitched gasps, the desperation in the movement of England’s sexy legs, and how he’d grown tighter within the last few pumps of France’s fingers stirring his pussy. If the call was important enough it would last up until he’d finished making England cum. Or they could just call back. He really didn’t care right now, England had his hand trapped between his legs preparing to cum…it was the most exhilarating thing to witness.
“Ph….phone, your phone…” England whined, “A-answer it, it might be someone Im-importa- A-ah fuck, keep it right there, I’m close..!”
France wasn’t going to ruin this for both of them. There was no way he was about to get up and answer that right now.
“Focus, mon puce.” France demanded in a hushed tone, “Focus on me, Arthur…”
While speaking, his pace grew merciless, sloppy noises juiced out of each contraction onto quickly moving fingers, and England’s hips lifted from the bed with each thrust of France’s hand into his wet, slippery cunt, his moans short winded and slutty the harder he was pumped, his words barely forming as his thighs struggled to stay open.
To further enthuse him, France slid close enough to leave teasing, sneaky bites into England’s throat, losing himself in the deep gasps and the increasingly ravenous breaths huffing from the Englishman’s chest as he absorbed every suckle of his neck aiding him in reaching his peak.
“F-fra…Fran-Francis, Francis, oh fuck, yes, yes…!”
With a smirk, France pressed his thumb into England’s hot, slick, pulsating clit, swirling it to feel a defined clench of pink walls onto his fingers, and he could’ve sworn he’d sent the poor man off into orbit as he let out moans of a louder and higher octave, his hips thrusting against the fingers inside him, and back curving from the sudden orgasmic currents rushing through him.
Oh, wait no, he didn’t mean to make him cum so quickly, but it wasn’t like he could stop it now that England’s cunt convulsed with peak arousal contractions, tugging on his hand and sending throbbing echoes through the clit under the pad of France’s thumb.
Then again, he did previously mention that he’d already been horny before the heavenly blow job he gave earlier. Perhaps it just couldn’t be helped.
“Yes, let it all out…let it out…” France sighed, watching each tremor run through pale thighs, a flat stomach, a flushed chest, and in the dark pink clit he observed in awe at how beautifully flawless such a rewarding climax made England’s body look, all while continuously thrusting his fingers into him to relish in the slowing pull clinging to him.
When England’s thighs ceased movement, and he laid limp on the bed in their shared nest, France finally slipped his digits from inside, observing the glow of the discharge enameling his skin.
God, he loved him.
While his omega panted heavily, France leaned down to plant soft kisses onto his cheeks and his neck, basking in the following scent indicating his calmer nature, whispering, “I love you so much…I love you, my Arthur…”
“Mmph…I love you too…pervert.” England managed to breathe back, catching France by his mouth with a calm peck against it.
The two nuzzled their noses together briefly, their mutually calming scents mingling in one single space without a care in the world, arms intertwining and legs tangling, their chests touching and eventually their lips conjoining with the sweetest little click once parting.
France stared at him with nothing but adoration in his smile, observing the blush glowing in England’s cheeks. He could truly love this man endlessly.
And of course, the younger nation could undoubtedly do the same.
Both men let their minds linger on the one single concern remaining of their relationship…
“Arthur…” France murmured, “When are you planning to tell them? Would you like me to accompany you when you do?”
England looked back at him and leaned in to kiss him on his chin, and uttered, “I’m…not sure. I’m still hesitant, I suppose. I know I said I wouldn’t let fear control me, but…”
*buzz buzz*
*buzz buzz*
*buzz buzz*
…..Not this shit again.
France sighed, begrudgingly rolling over and untangling himself from their cuddles, reaching over to grab his phone and answer-
Oh. Oh shit, okay. His boss was calling.
He swiftly sat up, standing to his feet in only his underwear as he answered, “Yes?”
England watched him with a shake of his head and a frown, folding his arms after catching onto France’s hurried behavior and following context to deduce that someone important had been trying to contact him earlier.
He personally wasn’t sure if he would have been angry with France for either finishing him off while on call or pausing from pleasing him, but he also didn’t want him getting in trouble with his people or whoever helped deal with political and business related affairs.
“….Tomorrow?? Can it wait until next week? I already have a tight sche….ah, okay. I understand. I’ll have to let you know at a later time today if I can make it.”
France didn’t sound too happy about what he’d been told just now…England unfolded his arms and leaned close to see if he could depict the muffled voice coming from the phone.
Was he being asked to go out?
Finally, France hung up, letting out a heavy sigh before turning over to England with a small concerned frown.
“Mon cherie, I have to head out for something important tomorrow morning, there’s a task I’ve been assigned and it can’t be put off.”
He spoke with a low voice, clearly disappointed about having to leave England home, and now the other country frowned as well, asking, “How long will you be gone??”
“I’m not sure.” France muttered, crawling back into the bed, “I’m hoping I won’t be gone for long. I don’t know how much time it takes for your heat cycle to start, considering your situation. When was the last time you took the suppressants?”
…..Huh.
England couldn’t remember.
He was sure it had to have been recent…at least within the last week or so. He couldn’t recall the weight of the bottle from the last time he’d held it, and now that it was hidden from him he couldn’t really figure that out.
“I….” He muttered, looking back at France nervously, “I’m not sure. I-I don’t recall.”
“You don’t remember??” France asked out of concern, “I…I’m worried about going out and then you end up with your heat while I’m away. Have you felt any changes in your body recently?”
“No…no, I’ve just been really anxious about the whole thing. But I don’t feel any fever coming on or any more slickness than usual.”
“Well…I would’ve known if that were the case, considering I’d just made you cum earlier…” France muttered, helplessly smiling from his attempt at teasing England as he kissed him sweetly on his cheek, “You already get rather wet in the first place…I can’t imagine what that’s going to be like when you finally have your heat cycle.”
England frowned, despite the soft pecks he received anywhere between his cheeks, his chin, and his eyebrows, and he said quietly, “I don’t understand why you’d have to go out now, of all times…”
“I’m not sure either.” France sighed, pulling back to face him once more, “I think I’d be in a considerable amount of trouble if I don’t go, but…I can’t just…I can’t leave you here, Arthur.”
England could see the apprehensions not voiced out loud all over France’s face, and he reached out to grab his hand, squeezing it carefully, as he said, “I doubt I’ll get it right away…I don’t even feel anything. I could probably take care of some of my own duties before things get really bad for me. I say at least call them back and see how long you’ll be gone…it might not be that bad, Francis. I don’t want you to ignore your work because of me-”
“You come first.” France stated firmly, “You are my priority right now. The humans know how to operate when I’m not around, I promise you they’re not that incompetent. I can’t let you sit in the house and suffer from your heat all by yourself. I refuse to let that happen…”
“But Francis…” England insisted, “I’m okay for now. If this thing is really important, you shouldn’t push it to the side. We have responsibilities…”
Unfortunately, he had a point. France just didn’t want to leave and end up gone for longer than anticipated, and then while in a position where he can’t leave to come back to England’s home, the poor omega ends up with a fever, pains, and the stubborn, unmoving cravings for sex.
He was sure that there were other symptoms that would be brought on as well, but right now his ultimate concern was going to be the possibility of England having to endure the discomfort all by himself.
He couldn’t leave England alone. He was anticipating this to be his most vulnerable state yet.
But England was also right in what he said about their responsibilities as countries…this had to be treated differently. He wouldn’t have even been questioning this, or weighing his options to begin with, if England hadn’t been so adamant on France remaining disciplined with his work. Was he doing that thing again, where he was trying to be strong, or fighting back his clingier tendencies so that France wouldn’t follow suit and therefore the younger nation wouldn’t be a bad influence?
France frowned at him now, shaking his head as he whispered, “Are you being stubborn again?”
“Francis, are you serious?” England scoffed, “I’m not being stubborn, I’m telling you the truth. The faster you handle your duties, the faster you’ll make it back and then you don’t stand the risk of any repercussions. I’d rather you be safe than sorry….”
“Angleterre…” France muttered, looking down at their hands, his heart racing at the thought of going God only knows how long without being able to touch his omega, “It’s not that easy for me to just leave.”
“....Take something of mine with you.”
France looked at him with wide eyes now, observing the softened gaze, and gasped, “Wh…what?”
“Take something of mine with you. Something with my smell on it.” England suggested, his voice low and calm, “It helps….you won’t have to rely on it for too long, but it’ll help you long enough until you can come back.”
Was he really going to be okay with that? Did he trust France to bring it back safely? He wondered what it was that he would be able to take with him…there were so many things in that house densely infused with England’s scent.
Ah, he supposed it was fair for England to tell him that he could do it…the little bastard had stolen so much of his clothing and formed a nest out of it in the bed they shared, it was to be expected that France would want to hold onto something in a similar manner.
He was going to miss England so much, though…but he did have duties as a country. Clearly, at the moment he wasn’t suffering from any symptoms, he seemed fine. As long as he were to communicate and call France if needed, maybe things would be okay.
Still...England seemed so sure that nothing was going to happen to him, and that he most likely wouldn’t start his heat until well after France had returned.
France leaned close, rubbing his nose into the crook of England’s neck to breathe in his pheromones, and he sighed, “I don’t want to go…I really don’t want to go.”
“I know….I’m aware, sweetheart.” England cooed, reaching up to sift his fingers through soft locks of blond hair, allowing France to rest his head onto his shoulder as he spoke, “But we can be strong for each other. Italy and Germany have to do it all the time…surely we can do that, too.”
He was right in that regard as well…Germany had stated a few times by now that he often had to fight off the empty feeling of not having Italy around when mandatory duties called for his presence…much like what France was having to deal with right now.
He was sure England would have to deal with it at some point, too…
France sat up, his eyes low as he stated, “I guess I should prepare myself to leave.”
He stood to his feet, and turned to England while holding out his hand to offer, “Would you like to shower with me before I leave?”
England nodded, standing up with him, grabbing onto his hand with a small smile. “Sure, let’s go Francis.”
Ugh….ugh, he should have just told his boss that he wasn’t going out. France wasn’t going to be able to handle not being around his beloved omega for so long…even with something of England’s in his possession during the time spent away, he was still going to miss their physical intimacy, it was going to break his heart to not have England by his side.
He had to be strong, though…if England could be strong, so could France….
…..Theoretically.
After their shower, France put on his outfit and stood in front of England, who sat in just his sweater and a fresh pair of sweatpants, both exchanging enamored glares towards each other while holding hands at the front door in the living room.
“Arthur…” France whispered, “Promise me you’ll call me if you need me. I’ll drop everything and come back if I have to.”
“I feel fine, Francis, I promise.” England reassured him, “I’ll be okay. I’m not running a fever, I’m not feeling any cramps, no thoughts of shagging like rabbits compelling my body to do anything strange, okay??”
France’s smile grew, and he leaned forward to kiss England’s forehead, watching him melt from the affection, then cupped the side of his face into the palm of his hand while murmuring, “I’ll be quick…I’ll try my best to get through everything, and then I’ll come back to you, okay? In the meantime, try to keep yourself busy. Maybe handle some things that you won’t be able to when the time comes and your heat starts.”
“....Okay.” England sighed, “I’ll miss you.”
France hugged him close, and gripped onto him with a small squeeze, fighting back the urge for tears to fall at the thought of having to leave him alone when he could end up in his most vulnerable state yet at any given time, speaking to him in a hushed whisper, “I’ll miss you, Arthur…”
When he finally pulled away, England looked up at him to add, “I love you…okay?”
No…no, don’t…France was already an emotional wreck right now.
“...I love you too, Arthur.” he responded, “I love you so much….”
“I’ll be okay. I don’t want you to be late.” England stated, “I…don’t know if I can watch you leave, so if I close the door, I…I’m just trying to not cry.”
Normally, France would have told him that it was okay to do so. Right now, though…all it would do was end up changing his mind about leaving, leading him to call his boss, tell him to find someone else to handle these responsibilities for the day, and cuddle England until the sun went back behind the trees once more.
He pressed his lips into England’s, holding velvet cheeks within his palms, and said, “It’s okay. I understand…”
Finally, he stepped towards the door and opened it, and before walking towards his car, looked back at England one more time and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I promise I’m okay…” he whispered, “D..don’t worry about me too much while you’re gone.”
France trusted him to tell otherwise. He trusted England to reach out if he was truly in need…the instinct to remain stubborn had grown noticeably thin since they’d gotten closer with each other, so France could trust him in those regards.
With a small smile, the Frenchman responded, “You are my omega, Arthur…your safety, your wellbeing, and everything that makes you who you are will always be my primary concern.”
When he watched England’s lips form into a similar smile, he had to force himself to turn and leave. He was going to fall apart from that smile one day. It brought him so much joy and peace, his heart grew wings and his insides ran on the pure fuel of love when he watched a smile bless England’s face.
…..Fuck, he was going to miss him.
****************************************
England managed to watch him leave, even though his heart pounded painfully during the entire thing, from the moment France’s back had turned to him, to the instance in which the black car rolling away resembled a faded dot in the distance.
He closed the door to his house, turning around to look at how empty and quiet it felt now, back leaned into the wall behind him while staring at his staircase, the fireplace, the coffee table in front of it, his sofas, all of the furniture in his home, brain filled with the floating scent in the air.
The same spiced aroma, dense with notes of the earth and the trees, an accompanying smell of perhaps a rainforest, masculine yet gentle with France’s effeminate touch….it sent him to memories of the dewy atmosphere in the forests he once ventured as a growing boy, hiding away from humans and other countries, even his own brothers, to take a break or experience relief from social interaction.
Perhaps that was why he loved France’s scent so much. Perhaps it reminded him of a time where he’d once been free to act as himself when alone with his thoughts…obviously, there was a lot more that would explain his need to smell him, but one of the discoveries he’d made recently helped him realize that there was a reason why he was so quick to shut off his defenses now that he was in a relationship with France and they’d declared their love for one another.
France made him truly feel like he could thrive through the world as an omega, no matter what the others would say about him. He felt stronger acknowledging his true identity than he ever had trying to pretend to be an alpha.
That was…scary, for some reason. That was scary to consider. He’d only ever known to boast and brag about capabilities he didn’t truly hold, and to keep himself in a standing where others wouldn’t question his limits.
But he was aware by now that maybe it was foolish to have gone all of this time being something he was not…
He couldn’t give into thoughts of France right now. He had only just left, and England was already feeling the coming emptiness, the hollow, longing spell starting to sink into his shoulders and dig all of the comfort once felt earlier that morning from his brain to make room for saddening sentiments about the only man he could ever love.
With a small sigh, England finally started heading back upstairs so that he could prepare himself for the day. He figured maybe he could invite America out for a meal, or call Austria and ask for advice on how he was supposed to handle being away from France now that he was aware that he was in fact an omega.
It actually felt…nice to have another omega to talk to. Sure, America had always been a good listening ear, but there were things he brought up during their conversations that the more oblivious country clearly didn’t understand. Austria obviously was going to be more receptive and be able to give better advice than America would. They could sit and chat all day, and it might help England with his social battery, but it wasn’t going to help shake the anxiety of being separated from France.
…..Fuck….he shouldn’t have talked him into leaving.