Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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It took about thirty seconds for Romano to end up on his back. Ten seconds after that, Spain bit his neck, and five seconds later Romano was sure he was going to have a very visible bruise there. A minute after that, Spain grabbed hold of his hair, and Romano couldn’t help his reaction. “Chi-iiii-gi.” It came out as a low, slow, nearly incoherent noise of pleasure.
Spain immediately stopped what he was doing, lifted his head to get a view of Romano’s face, and asked, very slowly, “Is… is that what that is?” He was met with an annoyed glare at the question. It had taken him long enough to realize. At the silence, he tugged it again.
“Ch-chi-” Romano forced himself not to say it by biting his lip. Damn Spain.
Tug.
“Hnngh.”
Tug.
“Ahnnn…”
Stroke.
“AhhhgoddamnitSpain!” Romano wanted to order him to stop, to threaten him with bodily harm like usual. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want him to stop. Unfortunately, Spain did stop a few seconds later as Romano found himself being kissed again, and then Spain was shifting his body and soon they were pressed together head to foot and Romano was half aware of the fact that he was getting quite hard and so was Spain, and something tugged at his mind about that.
But he couldn’t think about it too much because Spain’s right hand was wandering, under the hem of Romano’s shirt, pushing the fabric up as it moved up his side, fingertips tracing along his ribs and dangerously close to his nipple, then down again, over his stomach. And that was when Romano felt those fingers trail over the very rapidly growing bulge in the front of his pants.
His hips struggled to arch up. He had to break their kiss for breath, and his fists tightened around handfuls of the back of Spain’s shirt. Spain’s touch got a little firmer, and Romano moaned softly, “Ahhh…” Fingers trailed down further between his legs, and another, louder moan. “Ahhhnngh.” And then Spain pressed his whole hand down, palm to fingertips, and squeezed. Romano practically yelled. “Ahh-ahhhnnnnngodgetoffofme!”
Half a second later, Spain was on his back on the floor and Romano was sitting up, breath heaving and face utterly red. At the stunned look on Spain’s face, rapidly turning to confusion mixed with hurt, a pang of regret shot through Romano. It had taken him a while to come to his senses, but really, Spain should have known better. “That’s… that was…” He furrowed his eyebrows. That was the best thing I’ve ever felt. “No!” he finished lamely.
“No?”
Romano futilely tried to straighten out his mussed hair and glared half-heartedly. “Bastard. We can’t do that until we’re married.”
Eyes widening, Spain scrambled to sit up. “We what? You have to be kidding me!”
“I don’t joke about religion!”
Spain’s jaw dropped. “This is a Catholic thing?”
`
Romano waved a hand in abject exasperation and a bit of disbelief. “You’re supposed to be Catholic too!” He was aware that Spain was, well… lapsed.
Sputtering, Spain looked up at him from his spot on the floor for a moment like he couldn’t think of anything to say to that. A few seconds and he finally got out a muttered, “I always liked being Muslim better.”
“Fine with me, blasphemer,” Romano said, crossing his arms over his chest. It really didn’t matter to him what religion Spain preferred; that was hardly consequential. “Doesn’t change the fact that we’re not doing anything until we’re married.”
“You’re a terrible Catholic!”
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