[ oneshot ] Can't Teach Old Tricks [ Greece/Spain, Hetalia]
Title: Can’t Teach Old Tricks
Author: frostberryjam
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Greece/Spain (Axis Powers Hetalia)
Warnings: AU.
Summary: As a favor to Hungary, Spain agrees to train the new host.
Author Notes: Done for a commentfic meme. No real warnings on this one. Written for disownmereturns.
Meme key code: GEF: Greece/Spain / AU: hosts in a club / eating something from the other's mouth.
Part of Empire.
“I’m sorry I have to ask this at the last minute,” Hungary said apologetically, running her hands through her hair in frustration. She inhaled, breasts rising above the deeply plunging neckline of her sleek sunny yellow dress. “But Austria’s GPS died outside of the city and you know he can’t be trusted to find his way back without it.”
Spain laughed. Oh, he did know that. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve trained newbies before. If he’s fine with it, it doesn’t bother me.” He straightened the red silk tie he wore, black doublet jacket fitting him snuggly. Then he had to laugh again as Hungary threw her arms around him and dragged him down to kiss his cheek, smelling of hyacinths. “Oh, thank you, thank you. We’re going to use Room #3. He should be there in about fifteen minutes. Good luck!” Traces of pink lipstick were left on his cheek as she flounced off to find her direction-challenged husband.
The makeup was removed with a handkerchief as Spain took the elevator upstairs, passing by a few of his busy coworkers and their guests on his way to Room #3. He waved at France as they crossed paths, noticing the black woman under his arm seemed positively besotted with playing with his hair. He also noticed fine lines of strain around France’s mouth as he smiled, indicating that he was merely tolerating the affection.
Ah, well. They couldn’t always love their jobs. Spain tucked the handkerchief into his breast pocket after entering the room and seeing that the new hire was not yet there.
He surveyed Room #3, otherwise known as the Black Tea Room. It was fashioned in deep shades of black and brown, filled with intricately carved mahogany furniture and decorated with red and gold accents -- he fit as if he had dressed with this occasion in mind.
The coffee table was set out with trays of sweets, empty glasses waiting by a bucket of chilled champagne. The soft knock at the door drew Spain’s attention from eyeing the small chocolate fountain. “Come in.”
His lips spread in a welcoming smile as the doorknob was turned and the door pushed open. Then his eyebrows suddenly rose as a man a couple years older than he entered, tall and utterly self-possessed in a pristine white suit that had Taiwan’s handiwork written all over it. That he was somewhat dark skinned and wavy haired offset the white, with a dash of color in a sky-blue tie.
“Oh.” Spain dumbly stared before he tilted his head and laughed. “Aren’t you handsome? I’m Spain. Encantado de conocerte.” He stretched out his hand and the other took it, fingers long and warm. Their gazes met, different shades of peaceful green.
“Herac-” The other began introducing himself and stopped when Spain raised a finger to his own lips, smiling kindly.
“No. We do not use our real names here. What name did they tell you to use?”
“… Greece.”
“Ah. Perfect.” Spain squeezed the long fingers and then tugged, leading ‘Greece’ to sit down on the couch and then taking a seat next to him. “Hungary was supposed to do this but I’m afraid she had an emergency. More or less I’m just going to teach you basic tricks of the trade. Are you okay with that or would you prefer until one of the other female hosts can teach you?”
“It makes no difference.” Greece examined him quietly with an ambiguous expression, gaze running down his body in a way that made Spain vaguely self-conscious.
“Alright. Now, considering you’ve gotten this far, you must have aced the tests. So I don’t think I need to teach you how to seduce someone.” No, definitely not. Spain noted mentally as the man continued to watch him with the heavy-lidded focus of a cat predating a tasty morsel. “Let’s go with our most common problem; kissing. We don’t allow that in the club. It encourages the customers to push for more and we’re not a whorehouse.”
Greece arched one eyebrow suddenly, as if to say ‘oh, really?’ Spain gave him a smile that was slightly edged with ‘no, we are not.’
Greece chuckled, the sound velvety. Spain dropped the silent conversation and moved on.
“Show me what you would do if a woman leaned in to kiss you. How could you reject the guest without angering her?”
“Mn. Shouldn’t you be playing the role of the woman?”
“… sure.” Spain agreed after a pause. He shifted so that he was facing the other host on the couch and then leaned ever so slightly, aligning their faces for a meeting of lips. He waited to see how the other would react.
“I would touch her cheek.” The fingertips brushed against the side of his face tenderly, cupping his jaw. “And smile at her.” The straight white teeth flashed for a moment and Spain returned the smile automatically, unaware that he seemed to have ceased to breathe.
Then Greece shifted towards the coffee table, long arm reaching without having to stop caressing Spain’s face. It served a double purpose in that Spain couldn’t turn to see what he was picking up until a fresh strawberry topped with whipped cream was pressed against his lower lip. He automatically granted entrance, the fruit sliding into his mouth as he stared into Greece’s amused gaze.
He took a bite, juice glistening at the corner of his mouth as he chewed and then swallowed. Them remembered he was alive and needed to breathe if he intended to remain so. “That… was pretty good.” He acknowledged, licking his lower lip in an attempt to remove the residual sweetness. “What if I wanted more?”
Greece answered by sliding two fingers under his chin and urging him to tilt his head up, pressing his lips against the corner of Spain’s mouth. He licked away the stray line of strawberry juice and out of sight drew his thumb around the curve of what remained of the strawberry, collecting the whipped cream.
He smeared that over the seam of Spain’s lips and then all bets were off as Greece pushed him back into the armrest and kissed him despite the sound of protest Spain made, eating the sweet cream and working open the resistant mouth until Spain gave in with a sigh, gripping the strong shoulders and feeling the armrest dig into his back.
Greece kissed slowly, as if he had all the time in the world to dedicate to that single act, tongue flicking gently against his until Spain joined the dance, gripping even tighter at the sweet taste of cream and faint aftertaste of strawberry. He was left breathless by the time Greece finally moved back, hovering over him with a faint, pleased smile.
Spain swallowed. “The point of the exercise was to not kiss the woman.” He croaked, bemused.
Greece shrugged. “You didn’t say ‘what if she wanted more’, you said ‘what if I wanted more.’ If you did,” Greece rubbed his lower lip with a thumb. “I’d give you that and more.”
“Oh.” Spain blinked, not sure if he’d followed along with that line of logic but aware of a hardness pressed into his hip and eyes falling on a trace of cream still clinging to Greece’s thumb. Thus his natural reaction was to draw the digit into his mouth and suck on it.
The door banged open. “You wouldn’t believe where I found him this tim-…”
Hungary stopped and gaped at the two men on the sofa.
Then thanked God that she’d insisted they install a camera in every corner of the host club.
Author: frostberryjam
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Greece/Spain (Axis Powers Hetalia)
Warnings: AU.
Summary: As a favor to Hungary, Spain agrees to train the new host.
Author Notes: Done for a commentfic meme. No real warnings on this one. Written for disownmereturns.
Meme key code: GEF: Greece/Spain / AU: hosts in a club / eating something from the other's mouth.
Part of Empire.
“I’m sorry I have to ask this at the last minute,” Hungary said apologetically, running her hands through her hair in frustration. She inhaled, breasts rising above the deeply plunging neckline of her sleek sunny yellow dress. “But Austria’s GPS died outside of the city and you know he can’t be trusted to find his way back without it.”
Spain laughed. Oh, he did know that. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve trained newbies before. If he’s fine with it, it doesn’t bother me.” He straightened the red silk tie he wore, black doublet jacket fitting him snuggly. Then he had to laugh again as Hungary threw her arms around him and dragged him down to kiss his cheek, smelling of hyacinths. “Oh, thank you, thank you. We’re going to use Room #3. He should be there in about fifteen minutes. Good luck!” Traces of pink lipstick were left on his cheek as she flounced off to find her direction-challenged husband.
The makeup was removed with a handkerchief as Spain took the elevator upstairs, passing by a few of his busy coworkers and their guests on his way to Room #3. He waved at France as they crossed paths, noticing the black woman under his arm seemed positively besotted with playing with his hair. He also noticed fine lines of strain around France’s mouth as he smiled, indicating that he was merely tolerating the affection.
Ah, well. They couldn’t always love their jobs. Spain tucked the handkerchief into his breast pocket after entering the room and seeing that the new hire was not yet there.
He surveyed Room #3, otherwise known as the Black Tea Room. It was fashioned in deep shades of black and brown, filled with intricately carved mahogany furniture and decorated with red and gold accents -- he fit as if he had dressed with this occasion in mind.
The coffee table was set out with trays of sweets, empty glasses waiting by a bucket of chilled champagne. The soft knock at the door drew Spain’s attention from eyeing the small chocolate fountain. “Come in.”
His lips spread in a welcoming smile as the doorknob was turned and the door pushed open. Then his eyebrows suddenly rose as a man a couple years older than he entered, tall and utterly self-possessed in a pristine white suit that had Taiwan’s handiwork written all over it. That he was somewhat dark skinned and wavy haired offset the white, with a dash of color in a sky-blue tie.
“Oh.” Spain dumbly stared before he tilted his head and laughed. “Aren’t you handsome? I’m Spain. Encantado de conocerte.” He stretched out his hand and the other took it, fingers long and warm. Their gazes met, different shades of peaceful green.
“Herac-” The other began introducing himself and stopped when Spain raised a finger to his own lips, smiling kindly.
“No. We do not use our real names here. What name did they tell you to use?”
“… Greece.”
“Ah. Perfect.” Spain squeezed the long fingers and then tugged, leading ‘Greece’ to sit down on the couch and then taking a seat next to him. “Hungary was supposed to do this but I’m afraid she had an emergency. More or less I’m just going to teach you basic tricks of the trade. Are you okay with that or would you prefer until one of the other female hosts can teach you?”
“It makes no difference.” Greece examined him quietly with an ambiguous expression, gaze running down his body in a way that made Spain vaguely self-conscious.
“Alright. Now, considering you’ve gotten this far, you must have aced the tests. So I don’t think I need to teach you how to seduce someone.” No, definitely not. Spain noted mentally as the man continued to watch him with the heavy-lidded focus of a cat predating a tasty morsel. “Let’s go with our most common problem; kissing. We don’t allow that in the club. It encourages the customers to push for more and we’re not a whorehouse.”
Greece arched one eyebrow suddenly, as if to say ‘oh, really?’ Spain gave him a smile that was slightly edged with ‘no, we are not.’
Greece chuckled, the sound velvety. Spain dropped the silent conversation and moved on.
“Show me what you would do if a woman leaned in to kiss you. How could you reject the guest without angering her?”
“Mn. Shouldn’t you be playing the role of the woman?”
“… sure.” Spain agreed after a pause. He shifted so that he was facing the other host on the couch and then leaned ever so slightly, aligning their faces for a meeting of lips. He waited to see how the other would react.
“I would touch her cheek.” The fingertips brushed against the side of his face tenderly, cupping his jaw. “And smile at her.” The straight white teeth flashed for a moment and Spain returned the smile automatically, unaware that he seemed to have ceased to breathe.
Then Greece shifted towards the coffee table, long arm reaching without having to stop caressing Spain’s face. It served a double purpose in that Spain couldn’t turn to see what he was picking up until a fresh strawberry topped with whipped cream was pressed against his lower lip. He automatically granted entrance, the fruit sliding into his mouth as he stared into Greece’s amused gaze.
He took a bite, juice glistening at the corner of his mouth as he chewed and then swallowed. Them remembered he was alive and needed to breathe if he intended to remain so. “That… was pretty good.” He acknowledged, licking his lower lip in an attempt to remove the residual sweetness. “What if I wanted more?”
Greece answered by sliding two fingers under his chin and urging him to tilt his head up, pressing his lips against the corner of Spain’s mouth. He licked away the stray line of strawberry juice and out of sight drew his thumb around the curve of what remained of the strawberry, collecting the whipped cream.
He smeared that over the seam of Spain’s lips and then all bets were off as Greece pushed him back into the armrest and kissed him despite the sound of protest Spain made, eating the sweet cream and working open the resistant mouth until Spain gave in with a sigh, gripping the strong shoulders and feeling the armrest dig into his back.
Greece kissed slowly, as if he had all the time in the world to dedicate to that single act, tongue flicking gently against his until Spain joined the dance, gripping even tighter at the sweet taste of cream and faint aftertaste of strawberry. He was left breathless by the time Greece finally moved back, hovering over him with a faint, pleased smile.
Spain swallowed. “The point of the exercise was to not kiss the woman.” He croaked, bemused.
Greece shrugged. “You didn’t say ‘what if she wanted more’, you said ‘what if I wanted more.’ If you did,” Greece rubbed his lower lip with a thumb. “I’d give you that and more.”
“Oh.” Spain blinked, not sure if he’d followed along with that line of logic but aware of a hardness pressed into his hip and eyes falling on a trace of cream still clinging to Greece’s thumb. Thus his natural reaction was to draw the digit into his mouth and suck on it.
The door banged open. “You wouldn’t believe where I found him this tim-…”
Hungary stopped and gaped at the two men on the sofa.
Then thanked God that she’d insisted they install a camera in every corner of the host club.