Dressed as Clara Stahlbaum for what's supposed to be a rather private exhibition of her pointe technique on a small stage, hair loose and curled rather than braided and glasses done away with for the time being, the tiny principality could nearly pass for a preteen from the distance her audience of one sits.
The stage is set, appropriately enough, as a parlor belonging to a wealthy nineteenth century family, with couches and tables and a massive, glittering Christmas tree rising from behind them. Monaco flits about the stage, weightless and sylph-like, performing a solo routine that truthfully has nothing to do with The Nutcracker at all, and one would never realize how crazy that inconspicuous little branch of mistletoe hanging over center stage is driving her.
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
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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.
A breathless chuckle escapes her, though Monaco can't help but think it sounds more like a soft moan than anything else. Spain's interest in the boxes beneath the tree doesn't surprise her in the slightest; the acquisition of things is what prompted many of the other woman's actions over the years, and she wouldn't expect her to change now simply because the Hotel lacks a new continent to conquer.
"What...could be in them?" she asks rhetorically, then bites her lip as Spain begins to suckle a sensitive nipple, though it does nothing to muffle a breathy moan. From what she could see during her performance, the gifts lacked any kind of nametags, so they couldn't really be for anyone. Besides, why would anyone leave their gifts out in a theater for any stranger to take for themselves? Distractedly, Monaco's thighs press together, and she squirms a bit, wanting to move and grind against the sofa but afraid doing so will separate Spain's mouth from her body.
While Spain is nowhere near as materialistic --for lack of a better word-- as she was back then, her curiosity remains forever in tact and more often than not, it gets the better of her. Especially concerning objects that she knows nothing about. Even though there is a high possibility that there is indeed absolutely nothing inside of those many glistening boxes under the tree, Spain's urge to just open at least one continues to rise
( ... )
Monaco laughs again, and this time it sounds more like an actual laugh, weak as it is. For her, the definition of "nice things" centers around diamonds, private yachts, one-of-a-kind dresses, high-end escorts, and Italian sports cars. None of the packages around the tree are the appropriate sizes for such things, though, all roughly having the dimensions of small shoeboxes, thus she cannot say she'd be particularly interested in opening them even if they were real presents.
"Why don't you...hnn... --check, then?" she proposes, unable to suppress a tiny groan once Spain's hot mouth encloses over her other nipple. Monaco knows it's a horrible suggestion even before she's done speaking; it's unlikely her lover will decline, and she'll waste however long it takes her to open each and every gift before she's satisfied and willing to return to what they're doing. She places a hand on the back of Spain's neck, though, a subtle hint to keep at what she's doing until they've reached the natural conclusion of their current activities.
Meanwhile Spain, who could be considered Monaco's polar opposite, is capable of finding almost anything to be nice and special in some way. Granted, she may be more amused by certain things than others, but she isn't very picky at all. She's definitely a subscriber to the, "one person's trash is another person's treasure," saying. So as such, she really wishes to know what's in the boxes
( ... )
Of course. Of course Spain would be unable to turn down even just the slightest prospect of getting a gift, despite it meaning the cessation of foreplay. Monaco heaves a tiny sigh between the kisses, the disappointment evident on her face. She's sitting there panting, her face flushed and her bare breasts spilling from the front of her dress, and Spain is more interested in the empty boxes under the Christmas tree than in her
( ... )
While Spain is a dense and oblivious moron most of the time, she knows exactly what she has just done. And truth be told, she does feel kind of bad about it. But the gifts have been nagging at her brain from the second she laid eyes on them, just as the mistletoe had previously occupied her lover's thoughts. Granted, they technically aren't the same thing, but nonetheless, Spain just needs to make sure that her hunch is wrong before she can go on for she simply cannot shake off the feeling that these boxes hold something interesting for the both of them. Spain is incredibly grateful that Monaco complies with her rather selfish wishes and once she feels the other woman's head on her shoulder, she smiles apologetically and kisses it, a silent promise that she'll completely lavish her with all of the attention she both wants and is rightfully entitled to-- and then some
( ... )
The kiss to her head makes her feel a bit guilty somehow, like she's selfish for spoiling Spain's fun, but really, she can't help it. She's been teased into quite a state, only to be suddenly dropped by her lover in favor of some pretty boxes with bows
( ... )
The stage is set, appropriately enough, as a parlor belonging to a wealthy nineteenth century family, with couches and tables and a massive, glittering Christmas tree rising from behind them. Monaco flits about the stage, weightless and sylph-like, performing a solo routine that truthfully has nothing to do with The Nutcracker at all, and one would never realize how crazy that inconspicuous little branch of mistletoe hanging over center stage is driving her.
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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.
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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.
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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
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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.
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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..."
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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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"What...could be in them?" she asks rhetorically, then bites her lip as Spain begins to suckle a sensitive nipple, though it does nothing to muffle a breathy moan. From what she could see during her performance, the gifts lacked any kind of nametags, so they couldn't really be for anyone. Besides, why would anyone leave their gifts out in a theater for any stranger to take for themselves? Distractedly, Monaco's thighs press together, and she squirms a bit, wanting to move and grind against the sofa but afraid doing so will separate Spain's mouth from her body.
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"Why don't you...hnn... --check, then?" she proposes, unable to suppress a tiny groan once Spain's hot mouth encloses over her other nipple. Monaco knows it's a horrible suggestion even before she's done speaking; it's unlikely her lover will decline, and she'll waste however long it takes her to open each and every gift before she's satisfied and willing to return to what they're doing. She places a hand on the back of Spain's neck, though, a subtle hint to keep at what she's doing until they've reached the natural conclusion of their current activities.
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