Quando Parli [6 a / 7]
anonymous
April 1 2010, 04:39:23 UTC
The intoxicating breath was hitting him hard as if he had run head first into a wall. He couldn't think, he was just staying where he was, towering over Antonio, his mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed. The Spaniard had stopped reading, rather unable to move, and that was probably what had made Lovino return to reality. He had been close to him before, but that was quiet new, since he usually didn't have butterflies in his stomach whenever he was in the near vicinity of the Spaniard and did not run through his mind the twenty-seven different ways he had found to rip off his shirt. And damn, he looked rather hot (and terribly clueless) right now. "Lovi...?" he hesitantly tried "Is my reading really this terrible?" The words came over Lovino like a bucket of ice cold water. He thought there was a limit to the Spaniard's denseness, but it was obviously a lot further than he had expected it to. Hell! He might just as well do some very obvious things and he still wouldn't notice! … That gave him an idea, and his lips moved into a smirk. Spain's eyes grew wide at that. "Hey, Lovi... I mean, mi disp--" "Shut up." Romano demanded, moving his face lower. "Seriously, just shut the fuck up." and as if to prove his point, he trailed his tongue along the Spanish neck. He tasted just as intoxicating as he looked - the salt of the sea, the wind of the plains, the spices, the sun, the tomatoes, the passion -, and Romano liked that. He licked lower, noticing that he had undone almost all the buttons of Spain's shirt without noticing it when he caught a nipple between his lips and started sucking at it gently, while a hand softly pinched at the other. So his hands moved on their own too? In the meantime, Spain was having a hard time thinking. This was not okay. There was something wrong in all this, and that something was Romano. When he'd get out of whatever state he was currently in, he would kill him. Or try to. Which was almost as bad. Stupid skilled tongue of his made it difficult to do anything though, and before he knew it, Spain had moaned loudly, immediately biting down on his lower lip when he realized it. This was the exact reason why he hadn't been talking Italian for all those centuries. If Romano heard him, he would want to get revenge for him being forced to learn Spanish, but this was seriously unfair! Romano sat up on Spain's legs, and the older nation did nothing but stare at the ceiling. He knew that game : tease the person until they react positively and then go away. It was a terrible torture, but he would never have thought that his Lovi would take part in such a pla-- "Oi!" he ground his hips down, and Spain let out a gasp. "Bastard, move, or I'm never gonna get your shirt off!" That was not the threat he had expected.
* *
A minute later, Spain's hesitation was all gone, and Romano would have never thought that a string of curses in his native tongue could have such an effect on him, because he could swear he never found the word 'merda' sexy. Ever. But Spain made him see things from a different point of view, apparently. He felt like having some more fun. As in, messing with geography. Where was that city in the south again...? His finger played with the Spaniard's hair and traced his jawline, neck, and muscles, when he finally remembered. Spain had told him once (he had so many wounds from all his years of fighting that Romano had somehow learned the geography of the country looking at the other's scars when he explained where he had all gotten them from), and he was going to make good use of that. He drew circles along the Spaniard's stomach, his face getting closer to it... "Ciolla!"
Quando Parli [6 b / 7]
anonymous
April 1 2010, 04:45:55 UTC
Romano smirked. "You mean "cazzo", don't you?" Spain opened his eyes, slowly recovering. "I heard... some of your people say i- AH!" he threw his head back against the pillow when the younger nation gave another long lick at his belly button (who would have thought Málaga was this sensitive?), and trailed his fingers the whole way back to his face, along the tanned skin, over muscles, circling and pinching a nipple (which elicited a rather satisfying moan from the Spaniard). He then whispered huskily into Spain's ear "Yeah... If you've been to Sicily, sure." The fact that he was now completely flustered by thinking about what exact part of Lovino Vargas Sicily could be only caused said Italian's smirk to grow wider, and he scooted closer, bodies pressed flush together, murmuring in what could only be described as a tempting voice "I know what you're thinking, bastard. Find it out yourself..." Antonio Fernandez Carriedo didn't need things to be told twice (not this time). In one swift motion, he had managed to pin the smaller and very surprised man to the bed and was now towering over him. "Really?" He said, raising an eyebrow, while the Italian smirked once more, not the slightest bit annoyed and even challenging him by imitating his gesture "Sure. I could for example ask you to find Palermo..." That did it. The older nation's mouth was at Lovino's neck in an instant where he kissed his way along the sensitive skin - slow passionate kisses, each one just at the right spot, he softly bit down near Lovino's collarbone and sucked and licked at his wound. The short gasps the southern Italian made sent jolts down his body, and damn it, no, he couldn't just take his Lovi here and there when they still weren't fully unclothed yet! Although it was very tempting, and if he took the belt off he would just have to-- He decided against it. He didn't want to deal with an annoyed Lovino, even less with a murderous one. "Sei bello." he whispered against his skin, and the ragged gasp he gave him as a response was the most satisfying sound he could ever think of. "Ti amo." he continued, slowly pressing butterfly kisses to the Italian's neck, along his jawline, with that Spanish laziness he was -unfortunately- so well-known for. How he managed to alternate this easily between the sensual and so fucking slow licks and the passionate kisses was beyond Lovino. Not that he cared.
Feew, now the "smut". As I said, first time writing it, so I hope it's okay. I apologize in advance for any suckyness. I especially hope that it's not copying any other work... D: Translations Ciallo is Sicilian for 'cazzo', which would be something along the lines of "damn!" Málaga is a very random Spanish city I took, Sicily is a south Italian island, and Palermo is its biggest city~
And damn, he looked rather hot (and terribly clueless) right now.
"Lovi...?" he hesitantly tried "Is my reading really this terrible?"
The words came over Lovino like a bucket of ice cold water. He thought there was a limit to the Spaniard's denseness, but it was obviously a lot further than he had expected it to. Hell! He might just as well do some very obvious things and he still wouldn't notice!
…
That gave him an idea, and his lips moved into a smirk. Spain's eyes grew wide at that.
"Hey, Lovi... I mean, mi disp--"
"Shut up." Romano demanded, moving his face lower. "Seriously, just shut the fuck up." and as if to prove his point, he trailed his tongue along the Spanish neck. He tasted just as intoxicating as he looked - the salt of the sea, the wind of the plains, the spices, the sun, the tomatoes, the passion -, and Romano liked that. He licked lower, noticing that he had undone almost all the buttons of Spain's shirt without noticing it when he caught a nipple between his lips and started sucking at it gently, while a hand softly pinched at the other. So his hands moved on their own too?
In the meantime, Spain was having a hard time thinking.
This was not okay. There was something wrong in all this, and that something was Romano. When he'd get out of whatever state he was currently in, he would kill him. Or try to. Which was almost as bad.
Stupid skilled tongue of his made it difficult to do anything though, and before he knew it, Spain had moaned loudly, immediately biting down on his lower lip when he realized it.
This was the exact reason why he hadn't been talking Italian for all those centuries. If Romano heard him, he would want to get revenge for him being forced to learn Spanish, but this was seriously unfair! Romano sat up on Spain's legs, and the older nation did nothing but stare at the ceiling. He knew that game : tease the person until they react positively and then go away. It was a terrible torture, but he would never have thought that his Lovi would take part in such a pla--
"Oi!" he ground his hips down, and Spain let out a gasp. "Bastard, move, or I'm never gonna get your shirt off!"
That was not the threat he had expected.
* *
A minute later, Spain's hesitation was all gone, and Romano would have never thought that a string of curses in his native tongue could have such an effect on him, because he could swear he never found the word 'merda' sexy. Ever. But Spain made him see things from a different point of view, apparently.
He felt like having some more fun.
As in, messing with geography.
Where was that city in the south again...?
His finger played with the Spaniard's hair and traced his jawline, neck, and muscles, when he finally remembered. Spain had told him once (he had so many wounds from all his years of fighting that Romano had somehow learned the geography of the country looking at the other's scars when he explained where he had all gotten them from), and he was going to make good use of that. He drew circles along the Spaniard's stomach, his face getting closer to it...
"Ciolla!"
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The fact that he was now completely flustered by thinking about what exact part of Lovino Vargas Sicily could be only caused said Italian's smirk to grow wider, and he scooted closer, bodies pressed flush together, murmuring in what could only be described as a tempting voice "I know what you're thinking, bastard. Find it out yourself..."
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo didn't need things to be told twice (not this time).
In one swift motion, he had managed to pin the smaller and very surprised man to the bed and was now towering over him. "Really?" He said, raising an eyebrow, while the Italian smirked once more, not the slightest bit annoyed and even challenging him by imitating his gesture "Sure. I could for example ask you to find Palermo..."
That did it.
The older nation's mouth was at Lovino's neck in an instant where he kissed his way along the sensitive skin - slow passionate kisses, each one just at the right spot, he softly bit down near Lovino's collarbone and sucked and licked at his wound. The short gasps the southern Italian made sent jolts down his body, and damn it, no, he couldn't just take his Lovi here and there when they still weren't fully unclothed yet!
Although it was very tempting, and if he took the belt off he would just have to--
He decided against it. He didn't want to deal with an annoyed Lovino, even less with a murderous one.
"Sei bello." he whispered against his skin, and the ragged gasp he gave him as a response was the most satisfying sound he could ever think of. "Ti amo." he continued, slowly pressing butterfly kisses to the Italian's neck, along his jawline, with that Spanish laziness he was -unfortunately- so well-known for. How he managed to alternate this easily between the sensual and so fucking slow licks and the passionate kisses was beyond Lovino.
Not that he cared.
Feew, now the "smut". As I said, first time writing it, so I hope it's okay. I apologize in advance for any suckyness. I especially hope that it's not copying any other work... D:
Translations
Ciallo is Sicilian for 'cazzo', which would be something along the lines of "damn!"
Málaga is a very random Spanish city I took, Sicily is a south Italian island, and Palermo is its biggest city~
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