[ Grapes. Grapes were making him horny for America's bedroom eyes. He'd be angry if he knew, but he doesn't, and that's okay because he's just getting his fingers dug into a particularly stubborn itch he's had for over a year now. What's worse is that he knows he probably looks just as intent as the blond on his knees right now; there's no brushing it off or making jokes.

There's only quietly offered praise, muttered low so only the younger nation can hear, when America tongue slides down his length. An eyebrow lifts at the squeeze, but from the way his stomach clenches the attention hit the right spot. ]

You have no right to look this attractive right now.

[ He's taking a step back from the snark to gently tease America instead, though from how his breath catches and twists into a moan it might be more of a compliment. The lack of a hand on his hip to anchor him in place is noted, but he doesn't automatically grab the back of the younger nation's head and force him down. Not yet.

That would be selfish... but damn if the faint flutter of America's throat against the tip of his erection doesn't inspire a bit of greed out of the Frenchman. If there are any hands on him France gently pushes them off, tapping America's jaw to get his attention. ]

Touch yourself for me. [ Their position doesn't offer France much of an opportunity to pay America back for his efforts and he'd hate for him to go without release. His lips curve and he winds his fingers back in that short blond hair. ] I'll make it up to you when I get you back home, hm?