/writes you really sucky tags, for some reason...notunaforyouDecember 6 2011, 10:24:28 UTC
The bouquet of flowers being presented to her is massive, Monaco realizes as she hefts it up; she needs to use both her arms to hold everything in place, making herself look even smaller in comparison. Indeed, with her hair curled into little golden ringlets, pulled back from her face with a white ribbon, and a dress covered in peach-colored frills and ruffles to hide her silhouette, Monaco could truly be mistaken for a child at first glance. Such was her intention, however, in an attempt to play the part of a girl literally thousands of years her junior.
She smiles down almost apologetically at Spain as she recounts the epic adventure of her battle with the dreaded kitten heels, the constant presence of the mistletoe behind her a nagging reminder that she has Something She Needs To Do soon or else she'll have let someone, somewhere, down. Despite her somewhat divided attention, though, she takes a moment to look Spain's head over for any bumps, though with her hair tied loosely back, it's impossible to tell if she really did hurt herself.
"Will you be all right to dance with such an injury, though?" Monaco asks (only half-teasing), having caught that glance over Spain's shoulder for any potential onlookers and already a step ahead of her. The prospect of being closer to her lover and having a chance to kiss her under the mistletoe has Monaco herself looking around for a way to get her up onto the stage, though she cannot see a set stairs anywhere.
/takes forever to reply =7= /gives you even suckier tagsperonotecallasDecember 14 2011, 05:17:54 UTC
"Huh?" Spain cocks her head to the side, tapping her chin as though she has to actually think about her answer. While she did somehow manage to knock her head against the wall, to say that it'd cause an inconvenience would be a lie. Spain has a thick skull and a simple bump to the head is nothing compared to whatever other stupid injuries the nation has gone through.
"Pffft, I'm fine!" She says after a short pause, looking around the room again for some way to get onto the stage. There aren't any stairs and she can't seem to find any doors that would lead her up to the stage via a passageway either. She contemplates what to do for a short moment before deciding that the stage wasn't too high at all-- about a little more than three feet high. So, while it may not be the best or most graceful way to go about it, Spain rests her hands on the edge and quickly hoists herself up onto it.
She stands next to Monaco, now at her level with a bright smile on her face, "See?"
#finalsweeknotunaforyouDecember 15 2011, 03:37:46 UTC
If she knows Spain (and she likes to think she does), she figures it's more likely the wall is the one who needs to be worried about after that little mishap, but a mysterious feeling of overprotectiveness seems to cloud Monaco's judgment regarding the woman standing before her these days. It's hard to explain, and she's not even sure why she feels that way, considering Spain is more than capable of taking care of both herself and Monaco, but even as she watches her clamber up onto the stage, hesitantly moving toward her with the intent of offering assistance, Monaco can't help but murmur a quiet bid for Spain not to hurt herself.
Once she's standing safely on the stage, though, Monaco finds herself mirroring the smile on her lover's face as her anxieties dissipate.
"Well," she says obligingly, tilting her head and drawing out the syllable, making her way over to Spain. A small hand settles at the curve of her waist, that long-awaited physical contact making Monaco feel slightly warm inside. She could easily stand up on her tiptoes and capture that smiling mouth with her own, but propriety gets the best of her and she simply gazes up at Spain with a slight flutter of her eyelashes. "You seem to look all right."
/kicks finalsperonotecallasDecember 15 2011, 05:28:32 UTC
Well, it isn't as though Monaco's worries can be considered completely unusual. Spain can be rather clumsy sometimes thanks to her carelessness. So while she is perfectly capable of taking care of the both of them, it's not like she doesn't take a few tumbles and such. She could benefit from being just a tad more cautious from time to time, but that just isn't her style. She'll just remain carefree and hardheaded.
Spain feels Monaco's hand and the touch tingles in her skin through her clothes. She leans in, letting their foreheads touch. Her smile never falters as she wraps her arms around Monaco's waist, "That's because I am!" She says, her tone just a little softer and a laugh accompanying her words, "I can take a hit!"
/kicks sleepinessnotunaforyouDecember 15 2011, 06:17:26 UTC
Monaco giggles softly, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth as she turns her face away almost shyly so she can laugh. The other hand, however, tightens its grip on Spain's waist just slightly, a nearly involuntary action that nudges them even closer together.
"I would rather you not have to," Monaco admits affectionately, looking back up at her. The lights from the Christmas tree at the back of the stage reflect off her eyes as she gazes up at Spain, tiny glints of white-gold brightness that twinkle whenever Monaco's gaze shifts.
/kicks....some other thing!peronotecallasDecember 15 2011, 06:37:02 UTC
Even though Spain appears to not react to Monaco's tightened grip, she feels as though she's much more aware of it than she normally would be. Not that that's a bad thing, no, but for some reason, her desire to touch and be touched is slowly increasing.
She lets out a small, playful snort at what Monaco says next, finding such a confession to be nothing short of adorable. As they stay in their current position for a few moments, Spain wants nothing more than to just get even closer to her. While she's still unaware of the mistletoe, the urge to press her lips to her lover's rises anyway. And so, she does just that. It's a soft peck, but her lips still linger against Monaco's as she smiles and replies softly, "Well then, I'll try to be careful!"
/...it goes into the goal /and then you win the World Cup!notunaforyouDecember 15 2011, 07:08:06 UTC
She barely has time to laugh again herself before Spain is kissing her, catching her almost by surprise and swallowing up her chuckle before it even leaves her mouth. Her lips are so soft and warm against Monaco's own, and they give her just the tiniest taste of the one thing that's been on her mind since she first found herself on the stage beneath the mistletoe.
So taken is Monaco with that gentle little kiss that she cannot force herself to tell Spain how much she appreciates the other's efforts to take better care of herself. She leans forward, capturing Spain's lips all on her own this time, those full, red lips she loves so dearly, a hand finding her lover's cheek to cup it delicately and keep her from moving away again so soon.
/keeps the trophy for the rest of her life OuOperonotecallasDecember 15 2011, 07:28:39 UTC
From the second Spain first pulled away, she had means to just lean in and give Monaco a more proper, more sensual kiss. The desire to touch, touch and just continue touching her becomes overwhelming and before she can get on with her intentions, Monaco already does the job for her. She responds happily, letting the kiss go nice and slow so as not to seem to eager.
But even then, Spain can feel herself gradually deepening the kiss, reveling the sweetness of Monaco's lips and the softness of her hand against her cheek. Slowly, ever so slowly, one of Spain's hands travels up Monaco's side, making its way to her chest as the kiss continues.
Don't drop it under a bus, though...notunaforyouDecember 15 2011, 08:00:42 UTC
The restraint in Spain's movements is rather evident, not only because Monaco is so familiar with her touches, but because she's also battling their shared need. It's becoming increasingly difficult to keep her own caresses innocent, her hand following the ample curve of Spain's waist and hip up and down and back up again. At some point, she finds her hand beneath the loose, dark fabric of Spain's shirt, trailing over warm skin more smoothly.
She's hyperaware of the hands on her own body, though, in particular the one moving higher onto her chest. Layers upon layers of ruffles obstruct any view of what Spain is touching, though Monaco can feel the heat of her hand through the fabric, leaving soft tingles in its wake. The warm, slick pressure of the Iberian nation's lips and tongue against her own is just magnificent, stirring her desires to life and making her heart pound beneath Spain's fingertips.
....I'll try not to?! oAoperonotecallasDecember 15 2011, 08:34:32 UTC
Spain isn't sure what's gotten into her. Granted, Monaco can get her excited under any circumstances, but for some reason, that simple caressing of skin gives Spain goosebumps and she feels herself wanting more and more. Her own hand reaches Monaco's breast and she gives it the lightest of squeezes. It isn't enough, however, what with fabric being in the way. Amazing how Spain found it to be absolutely gorgeous on her lover only a few minutes ago and now it's just down right obnoxious.
It's becoming absolutely impossible to restrain herself as they go on. Because of that, she finds herself reaching behind Monaco's dress, trying to find something, a zipper, a string, anything that can rid her of that beautifully annoying dress. She hopes Monaco doesn't mind how quickly she's going, but god, she can't help it.
Deal. =7=notunaforyouDecember 15 2011, 09:00:21 UTC
Unfortunately for Spain, she won't find anything helpful at the back of the dress; as a ballet costume, it lacks any kind of fasteners that could possibly come undone during a performance, instead relying on elastic at the collar and waist. Lewd as the Hotel is in its offerings, it seems to have pulled through this time, presenting Monaco with something rather tasteful, however irritating it may be.
The principality, however, is quickly becoming just as frustrated as her companion is with the garment. Her body feels far too confined in it, and she longs for the touch of Spain's warm hands against her skin. She breaks the kiss momentarily ("--Mm, wait--"), disentangling an arm from around her lover to roughly yank the front of her dress down; the elastic at the décolletage has enough give to expose the breast Spain was previously cupping were it not for the bra Monaco wears, though she immediately pulls that away as well. Body sufficiently bared for now, her lips connect with Spain's again, arms pulling the two of them close once more.
For those brief few seconds that Monaco breaks away and her hand loses contact with Spain's skin, Spain feels a whine coming as though something crucial is missing for her. But she holds it in as soon as she realizes what Monaco is doing. As soon as the kiss commences and she gets the chance, Spain's hand reaches its destination. She cups a soft breast and gives it a squeeze, going on to roll the nipple between her fingers.
But now that Monaco's gone and partially pulled her dress down, Spain feels as though she's wearing far too much. With her unoccupied hand, she reaches for the scarf around her own neck, taking it off and discarding it towards some forgotten part of the stage. She wants to rip off her shirt, but at the same time, Monaco's lips are far too intoxicating to want to stop the kiss again. She lets out a soft groan, giving the breast in her hand another squeeze before eventually breaking away to catch her breath and aim for her lover's neck.
Breath coming in deep, steady pants and heart hammering away inside her chest as Spain reclaims her mouth, Monaco can feel herself letting the kiss grow sloppy. The taut nipple between Spain's fingertips throbs and tingles under the attention lavished upon it, the sensation alone making Monaco's knees feel weak and the warmth gather between her legs. She's begun to sigh and whine at some point, but it isn't until Spain parts her lips from her own that Monaco realizes the sounds she's making.
She all but clings to her lover, inhaling her perfumy scent (she's wearing some kind of body lotion from the Hotel, laced with its signature aphrodisiacs, no doubt what's caused all of this) as Spain kisses and suckles at her neck. Her knees feel like they could give out with every gentle pinch of her nipple, and hazy blue eyes search their surroundings for a place to sit down.
"Espagne..." The couch made of crushed velvet further onto the stage catches her attention, and she swallows, giving Spain a distracted little tug in its direction. The giant Christmas tree twinkles behind it, a multitude of prop gifts heaped beneath it. "Espagne...this way."
Spain too, can smell perfume lingering in the air. As she gives soft nips and sucks at Monaco's neck, she's able to detect the scent of something delicate and clean, powdery with a floral hint. It's breathtaking and possibly one of the many reasons why Spain loves getting this close to her. She takes it all in happily, having her way with the smooth, creamy skin before her.
"Hmm?" It stops all too soon, however, as Spain becomes aware of Monaco tugging at her shirt. She reluctantly breaks away from her to raise her head and catch sight of where Monaco wants them to be. Keeping one hand on her breast, the other wraps around Monaco's waist as Spain carefully, yet almost impatiently leads them along to the scarlet red velvet couch. She takes note of all of the gifts and stares at them for a moment as they manage to sit.
"Gosh," she says softly with a laugh as she looks back to her lover, kneading at her breast once more before giving her a quick, chaste kiss, "There's so many presents there!" Her attention may be somewhat divided, but it doesn't stop her from going back to her original position, her hands now cupping both of Monaco's breasts as her lips return to the crook of the other's neck.
Monaco sits, the frills of her dress and her curled hair bouncing almost exaggeratedly as she does. Slender arms slip around Spain's shoulders, drawing the two of them close once more. Her touch is heavenly, gentle and loving and confident, able to coax the most undignified sounds from Monaco with even minimal effort.
"They're part of the stage set," she tries to assure Spain, tipping her head back and letting out a soft sigh which ruffles the dark hair before her. She can feel the other's attention being drawn away just by the way she touches her, however; motions grow unfocused and repetitive, leaving Monaco only more desperate to obtain the attention she so desires.
A hand moves to tug away the other side of her dress, one motion frees her other breast from anything covering it, the fabric slipping out from beneath Spain's palm. The swell of her chest aches delightfully in her lover's hands, heavy and hot, and Monaco has to grit her teeth and consciously keep from groaning to murmur, "Just empty boxes..."
"Are they really?" Spain asks, her breath brushing past Monaco's neck as she resumes her work of gentle kisses, nips and sucks. For some reason, Spain's mind keeps wandering to the vast array of beautifully wrapped boxes that Monaco insists are empty. She does her best to shake off such distracting thoughts, but finds herself failing to do so.
Her lips make their way to Monaco's ear, gently kissing and nipping the lobe. "Well, that's too bad!" She whispers, her tongue flicking softly against the same lobe she was previously teasing. She still can't get the gifts out of her head and it's becoming a nuisance as she goes on to try and ignore them. She breaks away from Monaco for a brief moment to shift her position a bit, just enough so that she can begin to kiss at the other's exposed chest. One hand moves away from a breast to travel down her side, only to have its path interrupted by the ruffles of her dress. She lets that hand rest on Monaco's back instead as her lips reach the temporarily unoccupied breast.
She smiles down almost apologetically at Spain as she recounts the epic adventure of her battle with the dreaded kitten heels, the constant presence of the mistletoe behind her a nagging reminder that she has Something She Needs To Do soon or else she'll have let someone, somewhere, down. Despite her somewhat divided attention, though, she takes a moment to look Spain's head over for any bumps, though with her hair tied loosely back, it's impossible to tell if she really did hurt herself.
"Will you be all right to dance with such an injury, though?" Monaco asks (only half-teasing), having caught that glance over Spain's shoulder for any potential onlookers and already a step ahead of her. The prospect of being closer to her lover and having a chance to kiss her under the mistletoe has Monaco herself looking around for a way to get her up onto the stage, though she cannot see a set stairs anywhere.
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"Pffft, I'm fine!" She says after a short pause, looking around the room again for some way to get onto the stage. There aren't any stairs and she can't seem to find any doors that would lead her up to the stage via a passageway either. She contemplates what to do for a short moment before deciding that the stage wasn't too high at all-- about a little more than three feet high. So, while it may not be the best or most graceful way to go about it, Spain rests her hands on the edge and quickly hoists herself up onto it.
She stands next to Monaco, now at her level with a bright smile on her face, "See?"
Reply
Once she's standing safely on the stage, though, Monaco finds herself mirroring the smile on her lover's face as her anxieties dissipate.
"Well," she says obligingly, tilting her head and drawing out the syllable, making her way over to Spain. A small hand settles at the curve of her waist, that long-awaited physical contact making Monaco feel slightly warm inside. She could easily stand up on her tiptoes and capture that smiling mouth with her own, but propriety gets the best of her and she simply gazes up at Spain with a slight flutter of her eyelashes. "You seem to look all right."
Reply
Spain feels Monaco's hand and the touch tingles in her skin through her clothes. She leans in, letting their foreheads touch. Her smile never falters as she wraps her arms around Monaco's waist, "That's because I am!" She says, her tone just a little softer and a laugh accompanying her words, "I can take a hit!"
Reply
"I would rather you not have to," Monaco admits affectionately, looking back up at her. The lights from the Christmas tree at the back of the stage reflect off her eyes as she gazes up at Spain, tiny glints of white-gold brightness that twinkle whenever Monaco's gaze shifts.
Reply
She lets out a small, playful snort at what Monaco says next, finding such a confession to be nothing short of adorable. As they stay in their current position for a few moments, Spain wants nothing more than to just get even closer to her. While she's still unaware of the mistletoe, the urge to press her lips to her lover's rises anyway. And so, she does just that. It's a soft peck, but her lips still linger against Monaco's as she smiles and replies softly, "Well then, I'll try to be careful!"
Reply
So taken is Monaco with that gentle little kiss that she cannot force herself to tell Spain how much she appreciates the other's efforts to take better care of herself. She leans forward, capturing Spain's lips all on her own this time, those full, red lips she loves so dearly, a hand finding her lover's cheek to cup it delicately and keep her from moving away again so soon.
Reply
But even then, Spain can feel herself gradually deepening the kiss, reveling the sweetness of Monaco's lips and the softness of her hand against her cheek. Slowly, ever so slowly, one of Spain's hands travels up Monaco's side, making its way to her chest as the kiss continues.
Reply
She's hyperaware of the hands on her own body, though, in particular the one moving higher onto her chest. Layers upon layers of ruffles obstruct any view of what Spain is touching, though Monaco can feel the heat of her hand through the fabric, leaving soft tingles in its wake. The warm, slick pressure of the Iberian nation's lips and tongue against her own is just magnificent, stirring her desires to life and making her heart pound beneath Spain's fingertips.
Reply
It's becoming absolutely impossible to restrain herself as they go on. Because of that, she finds herself reaching behind Monaco's dress, trying to find something, a zipper, a string, anything that can rid her of that beautifully annoying dress. She hopes Monaco doesn't mind how quickly she's going, but god, she can't help it.
Reply
The principality, however, is quickly becoming just as frustrated as her companion is with the garment. Her body feels far too confined in it, and she longs for the touch of Spain's warm hands against her skin. She breaks the kiss momentarily ("--Mm, wait--"), disentangling an arm from around her lover to roughly yank the front of her dress down; the elastic at the décolletage has enough give to expose the breast Spain was previously cupping were it not for the bra Monaco wears, though she immediately pulls that away as well. Body sufficiently bared for now, her lips connect with Spain's again, arms pulling the two of them close once more.
Reply
But now that Monaco's gone and partially pulled her dress down, Spain feels as though she's wearing far too much. With her unoccupied hand, she reaches for the scarf around her own neck, taking it off and discarding it towards some forgotten part of the stage. She wants to rip off her shirt, but at the same time, Monaco's lips are far too intoxicating to want to stop the kiss again. She lets out a soft groan, giving the breast in her hand another squeeze before eventually breaking away to catch her breath and aim for her lover's neck.
Reply
She all but clings to her lover, inhaling her perfumy scent (she's wearing some kind of body lotion from the Hotel, laced with its signature aphrodisiacs, no doubt what's caused all of this) as Spain kisses and suckles at her neck. Her knees feel like they could give out with every gentle pinch of her nipple, and hazy blue eyes search their surroundings for a place to sit down.
"Espagne..." The couch made of crushed velvet further onto the stage catches her attention, and she swallows, giving Spain a distracted little tug in its direction. The giant Christmas tree twinkles behind it, a multitude of prop gifts heaped beneath it. "Espagne...this way."
Reply
"Hmm?" It stops all too soon, however, as Spain becomes aware of Monaco tugging at her shirt. She reluctantly breaks away from her to raise her head and catch sight of where Monaco wants them to be. Keeping one hand on her breast, the other wraps around Monaco's waist as Spain carefully, yet almost impatiently leads them along to the scarlet red velvet couch. She takes note of all of the gifts and stares at them for a moment as they manage to sit.
"Gosh," she says softly with a laugh as she looks back to her lover, kneading at her breast once more before giving her a quick, chaste kiss, "There's so many presents there!" Her attention may be somewhat divided, but it doesn't stop her from going back to her original position, her hands now cupping both of Monaco's breasts as her lips return to the crook of the other's neck.
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"They're part of the stage set," she tries to assure Spain, tipping her head back and letting out a soft sigh which ruffles the dark hair before her. She can feel the other's attention being drawn away just by the way she touches her, however; motions grow unfocused and repetitive, leaving Monaco only more desperate to obtain the attention she so desires.
A hand moves to tug away the other side of her dress, one motion frees her other breast from anything covering it, the fabric slipping out from beneath Spain's palm. The swell of her chest aches delightfully in her lover's hands, heavy and hot, and Monaco has to grit her teeth and consciously keep from groaning to murmur, "Just empty boxes..."
Reply
Her lips make their way to Monaco's ear, gently kissing and nipping the lobe. "Well, that's too bad!" She whispers, her tongue flicking softly against the same lobe she was previously teasing. She still can't get the gifts out of her head and it's becoming a nuisance as she goes on to try and ignore them. She breaks away from Monaco for a brief moment to shift her position a bit, just enough so that she can begin to kiss at the other's exposed chest. One hand moves away from a breast to travel down her side, only to have its path interrupted by the ruffles of her dress. She lets that hand rest on Monaco's back instead as her lips reach the temporarily unoccupied breast.
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