In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
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hetalia kink meme
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Okay, let's make history and be more epic than these people, shall we?
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Lovino felt himself release a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Antonio?"
He was greeted with a brief silence, before it was punctured by an audible shuffling sound.
A familiar voice rang out.
"L-Lovi? ¿Aqui estas?"
Lovino released an sigh that sounded both reassured and impatient. He rolled his eyes at the query, having heard it plenty of times to understand its meaning by now.
"Yes, I'm here. Who else did you expect?"
"Ah, mi amigo, I was just making sure," the Spaniard's voice was as smooth and pleasant as ever. Even though the Spaniard was nowhere to be seen, Lovino could practically hear the smile spreading across his features.
"You wouldn't have to 'make sure' if you'd actually come out and greet your guest like a good host," Lovino responded, exasperation in his voice.
The response was met with a quiet, amused sort of chuckle.
"I may be your host, Lovi, but first and foremost, we're amigos, isn't it? I didn't think that there were any formalidades as far as friendship is concerned."
That depends. Is our friendship even considered 'normal,' Antonio? And on who's standards?
Lovino chose not to respond verbally, and instead lowered himself into the armchair situated at the corner of the room next to the bed. He could hear Antonio hum some sort of catchy Spanish tune as he continued to bustle around in that walk-in closet, yet to make an appearance.
Impatient, Lovino released an irritated sigh.
"What the hell are you doing, anyway? I mean...you of all people are up this early? And not being boisterously loud, for once? Who are you and what have you done to Antonio Carreido."
"I prefer 'lively' as opposed to 'boisterous', actually," came the muffled voice, though it was still laced with that usual gentle amusement. "But if you must know, I was simply arranging my armario, my wardrobe y'see?"
"You realize that no matter what you wear, you can never show me up, right?"
That infectious laughter rang out at that, before Antonio responded, "What gives you that impression, amigo?"
"Namely the fact that I could come in wearing a cardboard box and still be wearing something that costs more than your entire wardrobe put together."
"Ouch." Another brief chuckle, followed by a sigh. "Hay, how you wound me, good sir."
There was another short silence at this, punctured only by Antonio's frequent rummaging, before Lovino asked again, "What are you doing anyway?"
The reply this time was triumphant, the voice a low, pleased purr.
"Ahh, you had to ask~! Your timing couldn't have been better if you'd tried, Lovi," came Antonio's voice, followed once again by that contagious laugh.
Lovino blinked. What is he going on about n--
There was a faint 'swoosh' sound, as the Spaniard suddenly materialized right in front of Lovino, flashing that charming grin.
"¡Ole!"
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In fact, he was almost positive that had he been eating something at that very instant, he would have spit it out and made a mess of the carpet.
But for good reason.
The Spaniard was decked out in what looked like a bullfighting costume; he donned a black vest adorned with intricate gold embroidery, complete with epaulets, gold braids, and black tailcoats. Underneath this, he wore a plain silky white shirt with a small red ribbon (pañuelo, was it called?) laced around the collar. The black trousers embroidered with gold tightly hugged his rather thin, fibrous legs, stopping just under the knees, to reveal the pearl-white colored tights that he wore underneath, that ran from his knees to the soles of his feet. His feet were boasting a pair of sleek black dress shoes.
He looked...he looked...
Hot.
Hot as fucking hell.
Antonio merely grinned wider at Lovino's shocked expression, oblivious to the spectacle he had just created, and instead waved his blood red cape with flourish, rippling it about in a rather elegant, regal manner.
"¿Te gusta, Lovi?"
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and at once Lovino realized he'd been staring.
He couldn't seem to find his voice, however.
"What...y-you..."
"My matador costume," Antonio explained, a wide grin gracing his features. "Para mañana."
There was another pause, as Lovino tried desperately to make a sound that didn't sound like a goldfish out of water.
"T-Tomorrow...?"
"Hay, you forgot, Lovi? Tomorrow's La Pamplona! ¡El Festival de San Fermín! Bullfighting is a really big deal in that celebration! And I couldn't just head out tomorrow without first trying on my new matador costume, right? So, what d'you think of it? Take back your previous comment?" He gave a devious sort of smile.
Well of course I wouldn't remember something like that...
And...
W-What's with that smile...?
Ugh...I f-feel...weird...all of a sudden...
Did Antonio forget to shut off the heater again?
Stupid Spaniard...
Lovino was suddenly aware of the strange, inexplicable sort of longing building up in the pit of his stomach, one that absolutely refused to go away, and made his face heat up faster than a fucking toaster. He had a niggling little inkling that the reaction had to do with the fact that his eyes refused to tear their gaze away from Antonio...Antonio, who was wearing that remarkably tight-fitting costume. And to make things better (No, no, no! N-Not better! I meant worse! Worse, worse, WORSE!), Antonio had chosen just that moment to turn around and walk a few paces back towards the closet where he had appeared from, giving Lovino a nice view of the tight-fitting garment gripping his ass.
I am not staring. I am not staring. I am not sta--
But he just couldn't tear his gaze away from that ass.
Traitors, he berated his eyes.
Antonio turned around, this time waving a deep red rose about with one hand, while the blood red cape remained draped over his shoulders. He observed the Italian's reaction, green eyes peering curiously at him, his expression pulled into a slight, thoughtful pout as he watched Lovino's face with interest.
A rather drawn out silence ensued, with both sides staring one another down.
Lovino couldn't stop his eyes from periodically darting downward.
...T-Traitors...
And suddenly, a broad smile alighted Antonio's features. One that seemed to puncture the awkward silence.
One that nearly scared Lovi shitless.
Dammit! He's onto me! Oh...c-crap. Not good. Not good. He..he probably thinks I'm 'checking him out' or something!
He tried to ignore the part of his conscience that was reminding him that was exactly what he was doing.
Antonio was still grinning, looking as though he just been struck with an epiphany of some sort.
"A~ha! I see what this is all about now, Lovi!"
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
"You want a demonstration, don't you!"
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He couldn't figure out whether the feeling that coursed through him was relief or fear.
Or something else.
The same something that kept possessing him to stare at those thighs and that chest and that ass.
Antonio flashed another broad grin at his companion, gripping the stem of the blood red rose between his teeth, eyes heavily lidded in a manner that could only be described as mind-blowingly sexy.
Lovino merely swallowed, licking his lips carefully.
A-Antonio. If you know...if you know what's good for you, y-you'll change out of those clothes. Right. NOW. For...for both of our sakes...
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So Antonio did end up demonstrating. Waving around that blood-red cape, flourishing it in a regal, elegant manner, while taking graceful, carefully trained steps all the while. He was speaking too, still somehow managing to keep the stem of the rose gripped between his teeth, as he explained the finer points of bullfighting to the onlooking Italian.
Except there was one little problem.
The problem being that Lovino hadn't heard a word the Spaniard said.
He wasn't even aware of the fact that the other man was even speaking to begin with.
All he saw were the graceful motions, the thin physique flowing from one maneuver to the next, the matador costume hugging his every muscle and fiber all the while. The way Antonio's legs moved, and the way the muscles in his thighs tightened every time he made a majestic swoosh of the cape. The animated expression, green eyes alive with a passionate sort of fire, as his lips moved, forming sounds that flowed like music, alighting his senses. The way he so skillfully moved his hands. The rose petals brushing lightly against those intoxicating lips. The way the tight-fitting fabric accentuated the Spaniard's shapely ass. The tousled sepia strands of hair that hung idly along his forehead. The small pinpricks of sweat forming on his temples and hands.
And before he knew it, the act was over, and Antonio was no longer performing. He had taken a seat on the bed, barely a few feet away from the Italian, staring into Lovino's face again, the cheerful expression beginning to slide off his face in small but noticeable increments.
"Lovi?"
Lovino fought himself to answer coherently, ignoring the spasms of pleasurable pain stemming from somewhere around his groin. "H-Hm?"
"¿E-Estás bien? A-Are you feeling okay? You're awfully quiet."
No I'm bloody not okay.
"M' f-fine."
Way to sound convincing..
Antonio's eyebrows furrowed, concern dripping from his features. "Are you sure you're all right? You look pretty...tense..."
Believe me, you have no idea.
"Are you sick? Do you want to lie down?"
Lovino was about to force out at least some sort of semi-coherent response when suddenly, he felt a hand come down gently onto his head.
The whole world stopped for a few moments.
The Spaniard, as oblivious as ever, merely continued to ruffle the Italian's hair lightly, in an attempt to get his friend to relax.
Except...that little show of affection...triggered something that neither of them was prepared for.
The roaming fingers, inadvertently or purposely Lovino couldn't say, brushed across one particularly hypersensitive strand of hair. And that wasn't all. The fingers lingered there, and Lovino felt himself swallow a breathless sort of gasp as Antonio's fingers began to stroke the spot. Tenderly. Delicately. And oh fu--
Lovino was dimly aware of the sudden fiery, burning sensation coursing though his veins, his body suddenly pounding from pent-up...something, before he let himself be consumed by the animalistic sensations of fiery passion. There was a flash of something before Lovino's eyes.
He was, in fact, sure he had just seen red.
And with that, he let go of every restraint.
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Damn, he's got beautiful eyes, said an unrecognizable voice in the back of his mind.
Antonio merely blinked, his mouth hanging open slightly, as a faint blush began to tickle his features.
"L-Lovino? W-What...are y--..."
He was silenced instantly by a pair of lips on his own, as Lovino locked his lips with the Spaniard's.
The kiss was long, deep and oh so fierce.
They had barely paused for a gulp of air when Lovino's lips were on his once again. The kiss was so hard. Probing. Demanding. And oh-so possessive.
Lovino felt Antonio whimper slightly as the other man went limp in his arms. To which the Italian responded by firmly coiling his fingers around the Spaniard's silky sepia strands of hair, and wrenching the other man closer, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. Impatient, he began roughly running his tongue along the Spaniard's bottom lip. He felt Antonio hum contentedly before succumbing, allowing the Italian's tongue entrance into his mouth. Both men were enraptured by the feeling as their tongues violently wrestled with one another, the fierce entangling of tongues ensuing with a hot, fiery sort of passion. Lovino shut his eyes, allowing himself to explore every inch of the the other man's mouth, which tasted faintly like tomatoes. And damn if he didn't find that taste addicting as hell.
"Mmm," Lovino pulled away from the fierce kiss, a tiny tendril of saliva still keeping him connected to the other's tongue. He narrowed his eyes slightly, giving the other a sly smile as he knelt closer, taking the taller man's earlobe between his teeth, proceeding to tug and flick his tongue along the edge. Antonio threw his head back once again, breathing heavily, as Lovino hissed seductively, "Qué...guapo eres." A slight inhalation of breath caused goosebumps to sprout all over Antonio's skin. Lovino's next comment came out as a lecherous, sexy sort of growl. "T-Te quiero, Antonio. Te quiero mucho." Antonio relished the feeling of the exalted shivers running down his spine, as he gave a weak chuckle, wanting to ask who on earth had taught him to say that, but he was stopped by Lovino's tongue running along his exposed neck. Antonio threw his head back and moaned throatily as Lovino's wet, hot tongue found its way to a rather sensitive spot on the other's neck. Before he could even begin to release a murmur of approval, Lovino had silenced him once again with another burning kiss.
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"A-Antonio," he whispered hotly. The shiver that ran through Antonio's body was as stimulating as the pleasurable moans that flowed out of his partially opened mouth. "Say...s-say my name. Moan for me, Antonio."
Antonio managed to pull his foggy pleasure-hazed brain back to reality for a brief moment, as Lovino's words penetrated the steamy fog that surrounded him and enveloped his senses. He managed a sly sort of smile, quirking one corner of his lips upwards in amusement.
His reply was short and breathless.
"Make me."
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Lovino responded by merely grinding harder, in a way that felt so damn good...the friction, the closeness making both of them throb, enraptured by the pure ecstasy that flowed through their bodies. Antonio fought for control over his spasming form, realizing that his vest and shirt had mysteriously disappeared within the span of a few moments. Lovino merely rocked harder, to the point where the pleasurable sensations in his groin were becoming too much to bear, and he suddenly felt a hot pulsating sort of passion flood his being..
"A-Ah," Antonio's voice was breathless, as he managed to stammer out, "My...mis pantalones...ah..oh god, Lovi..."
Lovino broke away from where he had been flicking at Antonio's nipple to observe what had gotten Antonio so riled. Upon seeing Antonio's bulge stretching against those tight pants, in a manner that looked ridiculously painful, a lecherous sort of smirk passed his features. He ignored the pleas for the time being, and merely continued to nibble on the pinky-brown bud, before finishing the job with a very obvious, long, painfully drawn-out suck on the already hardened nipple. At this unexpected maneuver, Antonio arched backwards violently, releasing a loud, drawn-out moan, sweat sticking to his torso and forehead, making them give off a glossy sheen.
Deciding to finally relieve him of his misery, Lovino made quick work of Antonio's tight pants and his boxers (tomate colored, he should have expected it), allowing his hands to run along the insides of his thighs, before clamping them roughly over the Spaniard's ass.
"Accepted defeat yet, matador?" came the seductive hiss as Antonio bit back another moan.
The response was one that caught him completely by surprise. A moment later, Lovino found himself flat on his back, with Antonio sprawled over him, grinning that Cheshire grin, his eyes glinting with that same fire they contained when he had been demonstrating his bull-fighting moves.
"You wish. A matador shall never be bested by a torro," came the cheeky reply, and within seconds, Lovino found his pants being torn off in one swift motion.
Torro? Me? Hmm. I believe this is a completely different sort of bullf--
His thoughts were interrupted when Antonio suddenly dropped to his knees. With single-minded determination and dexterity the matador had the boxers ripped off before the Italian's mind had a chance to process what Antonio was doing. His blood grew oppressively hot as if he'd been drugged and his limbs too heavy to move as he gaped at the scene unfolding in front of him.
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Skilled fingers caressed his thighs.
Lovino's eyes widened with realization.
Oh fuck, Antonio...! He's not going t--
He found that he couldn't go further as lips closed down on half-erection, and from there he was only aware of the hot breath on his stomach.
Lips pressed against the base.
Hand gently cupping the other side.
Tongue pressed against the thick ridge.
Flesh stiffening.
Pulse pounding.
The fucking amazing things that tongue was doing to him.
The fiery sensation of that wet tongue sliding down his erection, making him quiver with pent-up arousal, made the Italian struggle with the onslaught of pleasure, the sight of Antonio kneeling on the floor in front of him. He tried to say something, though he found that his voice was hopelessly stuck in his throat at the unbelievably erotic sight between his legs. The hard flesh sliding out of his mouth; the thin line of spit trailing down his chin; before the tongue and lips and eyes all melted into one inescapable swirling sucking heat.
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Though there was something triumphant about that whole gesture.
Seizing the opportunity, Lovino gripped the Spaniard's wrists and threw him down onto the bed once again, towering over him as he himself donned that triumphant grin.
He heard Antonio's weak chuckle, combined with a moan, as he fought to control his throbbing erection. "F-First drawer," he gasped breathlessly. Lovino leaned over towards the drawer, pulling out the small tub of lube, fumbling with it as he closed his own slick hand around his partner's length. Antonio released a drawn-out moan, pinpricks of sweat dotting his entire form. The Spaniard then grasped the tub of lube, trying not to let it slip out of his slick hands, as he mirrored Lovino's earlier actions.
"Nngh...ah...oh...f-fuck Antonio..."
There wasn't even any room for thought because that hand was moving up and down without any resistance, just wet heat and firm pressure.
Antonio paused to smile lightly as Lovino arched fiercely off the bed, releasing a sharp, keening moan.
At last, with the job done, the Spaniard moved, with limbs too heavy, propping himself on his elbows and sliding back, adjusting until he was sitting with his back against the headboard.
With one last visual sweep of the intoxicating form of the man in front of him, Antonio closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. With the last threads of his courage gathered, he shifted and turned, moving so he was facing the wall and rose up on his knees. He stayed that way as his heart stopped, one hand on top of the headboard and one braced against the wall, slightly bent at the waist and knees slightly spread, barely breathing.
Lovino's face turned an even deeper shade of crimson as he took in the sight of the incredibly attractive, ravishing Spaniard in front of him, skin colored pink, body heaving, pinpricks of sweat trickling down his temples, gorgeous back tautly muscled, shoulders bunched with strain as he held that erotic position, standing, waiting at the ready.
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Lovino could hear his own ragged breathing, the slight moans resounding out of his own mouth, but damn if the whole thing wasn't so much tighter, so much hotter, so much more intense than he'd ever imagined it.
"F-fuck, Antonio..."
Numbly, he was aware that Antonio was muttering something, slow, soft, seductive, under his breath. Lovino leaned forward with another powerful thrust, allowing his teeth to nip at the Spaniard's shoulder blade.
"O-Oh...Lovi...v-venga... venga ya...oh f-fuck, Lovi, Qué bien lo haces..."
Realization struck.
Antonio was cursing. In Spanish.
And he had assumed that the Spaniard couldn't possibly get any more hot or any more sexy.
Antonio had proven him wrong again.
Hearing him curse was sexy enough by itself. But hearing his voice command so breathlessly, so demandingly in another language was music to the Italian's ears.
"Oh f-fuck, Lovi...Fóllame...nngh...Lovi...v-venga oh Lovi...h-harder...d-don't...stop..."
...the strokes quickly building speed...thrusting harder....faster...harder...faster...so fucking g--
There was a sharp cry as both men came simultaneously, the warm thick release dripping onto the bedsheets and off Lovino's fingertips, the feeling of immeasurable pleasure at the climax, coupled with the warm afterglow. Both men fell onto the mattress in a heap, panting and breathing heavily, sweat globules sliding down their naked forms.
That was...
It was...
Lovino chanced a glance at Antonio, who was staring at the ceiling with a glazed look in his eyes. Coming to his senses, his eyes widened slightly at the very thought of what had just happened. I...me...and Antonio...
I can't believe that I let myself...
What...do I...
A shiver passed through his form as a fist tightened around the soiled bedsheets.
What...will he think of me?
Frightened eyes traveled tentavitely towards Antonio.
The Spaniard was smiling.
The green eyes met brown. They gleamed with a fiery sort of passion, combined with a gentle sort of compassionate warmth.
Lovino felt a shy smile touch his own features.
He released a contented sigh, pulling the covers over himself, up to his chin.
Maybe. Maybe eventually he'd face what he had done. Maybe they'd talk about it. Maybe it would go somewhere. Maybe not.
But all that could wait.
Right now, he was content spending the rest of the morning in a lazy silence, curled up within the endless sea of bedsheets and comforters, with Antonio at his side, hands gently wrapped together.
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This was one corrida...that he hadn't minded losing.
They slept.
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And now *I* sleep, after a long night of paper-writing and this most wonderful distraction to keep me going. Thank you so much, anon. I offer you all the typical internets and future children and the like, and anything more you might ask, forever and ever. And coherent comments in the morning.
<3
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*goes and turns in keyboard*
I am unworthy.
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and now I shall start worship the ground you walk on!
Seriously anon, you are my God!!!
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Oh oh oh, this is awesome. We all love you.
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Then yours must me a natural born talent anon, because it was fucking amazing! <3
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