[fic] give & take part 1.
Title: Give and Take.
Author/Artist: Some pervert. >3>;
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain/ Romano
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Slight sexual situations. Okay. Sexual situations. Detailed sexual situations. Fine. It's fangirly porn.. BT
Summary: 11,000 words of porn with a vague plot After hundreds of years in the making, Romano is in what he would grudgingly call a relationship with Spain. At least he thinks he is. He's really not sure. Weren't relationships meant to be about mutual give, and take, after all?
Sensationally cut into two parts because it's too bloody long. B|
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Someone told me to "write porn" so I did. The result was something verging on Mills and Boon. /facepalm...
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The heat was almost oppressive, wrapping around his chest in a vice grip, constricting him. He gasped for breath, but it was almost as if the air around him had become tangible, flooding his throat with every great heave of his chest, snatching any blissful relief that his lungs so desperately sought. He was burning up, his heart thudded, his entire being throbbed in desperation, fingernails scrabbling at the material of crisp, white cotton, clawing himself closer, and closer-
He shuddered, entire body pulling taught, breath hissing out from between his clenched teeth. Consciousness seeped back into him, settling deep into his bones, readjusting to the familiar weight of his body, even as Spain’s hand on him continued to move, soft caresses around him helping him to ride out the last waves of his orgasm.
His knees buckled, flagging energy causing him to teeter where he stood. It took him a long moment- until he could focus on something other than the need to breathe- to realise that he was being clasped to Spain’s chest, the man’s scent, and heat, and soft voice surrounding him like a cocoon, flooding his senses until all that he knew in the world was Spain.
The moment faded, sense beginning to return to him. Straightening up, he pushed Spain away, urging him to release him from his tight hold in order to lean back against the wall that he had previously been pressed so seamlessly against. Spain let go with a smile, leaning in briefly to press a soft kiss to Romano’s lips, before pulling back, raising the hand that had been spattered with Romano’s come, and nonchalantly licking it clean in an action that was bizarrely cat- like. Romano watched him with heavily- lidded eyes, finding the display extremely erotic, but still too tired from his recent orgasm to get aroused again so quickly. Licking his lips, Romano glanced down, reaching out slowly with hands that felt like dead weights in order to grab at Spain’s hips.
And then Spain pulled away entirely, flashing Romano what could only be called a gentle smile.
‘You must be hungry, Romano. I’ll go and make a start on lunch.’
With an absentminded nod, Spain left the room, leaving an irritated, and frustrated Romano to pull his trousers back up.
--
It had taken Romano a longer time than he liked to admit to notice that something was extremely odd about his, and Spain’s trysts. No, odd was not the right word for it. As the days, and weeks, and months rolled by, Romano was sure that there was, in fact, something wrong with them.
Initially, it had been the newness that had blinded Romano. The exciting step into new territory that he had spent so many years craving to enter. He hadn’t been particularly experienced when Spain began his kisses, and his touches, but neither had he been wholly innocent. He’d fooled around with a few girls, but Spain had been a different matter altogether. Spain had, much as he was loath to admit it, been the centre of his life for almost as long as he could remember, and the shift in their relationship from platonic love, to one that expressed feelings through sexual actions hadn’t come soon enough for Romano. In Spain’s hands, he felt as virginal as the fresh- fallen snow, and so, in the initial few days, and weeks, his mind had been so caught up in how fucking good it all felt, and how fucking gratifying it was after years of fantasising, that nothing had seemed strange to him in the slightest.
He honestly couldn’t remember how it had suddenly clicked- a sudden, and slightly shocking realisation that he’d never actually made Spain come. At first he had been perplexed by it before writing it off as Spain having the attention span of a gnat, and the spirit of an explorer, who probably saw this new, sexual side to Romano as an extremely interesting thing to investigate. However, following that line of thought, Romano also remembered shortly after creating that hypothesis that Spain was an extremely greedy man, especially when he was exploring (there was almost an entire continent that could attest to that), so his refusal to seek his own pleasure made no sense.
After that, the doubt had come, staggering Romano into a crippling state of dread as old, poorly- buried fears, and self- esteem issues rose to the surface. Spain had always indulged him, spoilt him, done his best to keep him happy. Suddenly the development in their relationship had seemed very one- sided to Romano. Suddenly, Spain didn’t want him at all. He was just doing his best to indulge Romano’s own desires, forcing himself to touch Romano in a way that probably disgusted him, just to make Romano happy. The thought had twisted like a knife in his chest, his heart aching, accusing him of greed, and of selfishness. He had wanted to be furious with Spain, but instead he felt furious with himself. The things that he’d forced the poor man into doing… he was such an egotistical little shit.
On the night that he had planned to do the noble thing, and spare Spain any more grief, Spain had interrupted the beginning of his well- practiced speech with a kiss. A deep, sensuous, toe- curling kind of kiss. Romano’s favourite kind of kiss. Naturally, he’d promptly forgotten what he hadn’t wanted to say in the first place, and it wasn’t until Spain had him pinned down onto the settee, hand fisted around his cock, and driving him on with long, firm strokes, that some guilty little bubble had risen within him. He’d opened his mouth, on the verge of telling Spain to stop, on the verge of breaking his own heart, when Spain had shifted against him slightly. The movement, though slight, had caused Romano’s mouth to snap shut again in amazement.
After that, his fears about Spain performing some kind of strange duty had vanished. That moment on the settee had proven what he had been daring to hope- he had aroused Spain. Spain wanted him. Spain lusted after him. It was mind- blowing, the thought alone leaving him breathless, and dizzy, and warm in a way that felt suspiciously like joy. The problem was that it bought him around to his first issue- he had still never made Spain come. Fair enough, he’d never really made any effort to shove his hands into Spain’s pants, or anything, but Spain was clearly far more experienced than him in this kind of thing, so he had just sort of assumed that he would guide him along. He obviously liked to be in control during those sorts of activities, and though Romano wasn’t exactly lacking in pride, he was happy to let him, lest he attempt to take charge himself, do a clumsy job of it, and end up embarrassing himself.
It was clear to him, once his silly little fears had abated, that Spain enjoyed getting him off. In fact, one of the times when he had used his mouth, Romano had strongly suspected that he had, in fact, come in his pants. After that, the way in which Spain left him so soon after he had bought him to orgasm grew increasingly more suspicious and Romano was, ridiculous as it sounded, beginning to actually entertain the notion that perhaps Spain was leaving him in order to finish himself off elsewhere. It was such a bizarre idea to Romano that it took him a long time to gather the courage to pad quietly after Spain as soon as the other had made his usual hasty exit. Sure enough, he’d headed straight for the nearest bathroom, and didn’t emerge from it until several minutes had passed.
At that point, Romano truly didn’t know what to think any more.
He must have been spending far too much time around Spain for him to have been optimistic enough to hope that he and Spain could have anything remotely resembling a normal relationship. Sure, they both had a fuckton of issues to work out, but Romano had really rather hoped that they’d just get resolved on their own over time, or something. True love winning over all, and the rest of that bullshit.
Life had a habit of kicking you in the balls though, and, after months of gradually figuring out just what the fuck was going on in Spain’s head, Romano had finally come to an understanding. Fuck making sense of the situation. Spain was an idiot, and if Romano didn’t do something about it, then Spain as clearly going to doom them both to a very confusing, very one- sided, and very stressful sex life.
It was with a heavy, tired sigh that came out more like a growl, that Romano resigned himself to the task of actually getting Spain to let him reciprocate. Maybe, just maybe, he’d even let them have sex, and… and Romano couldn’t believe what he was thinking. The whole situation was insane.
--
‘Spain, I want sex,’ Romano stated the very night that he’d made his mind up to act, sitting up in bed, and fixing Spain with an expectant look.
Well he never had been one to beat around the bush.
However, even for someone who knew him as well as Spain did, Spain still had to pause in where he was reaching over to pull at his hair curl.
‘Eh? Romano that’s what I was trying to do, silly,’ he responded with a confused smile, resuming in his plan to grab at that perpetually errant, and rather appealing strand of hair.
Romano smacked his hand away. ‘I don’t mean “I want you to get me off”, you bastard. I mean I want to have sex with you.”
Spain paused again, fixing Romano with a rather mystified look. ‘I’m not following you.’
‘For God’s-’ Romano groaned, rolling his eyes. ‘Spain. I want to have us to have sex like normal people do.’
‘They have sex differently to us?’
‘No! Yes. I don’t know!’ Romano snapped. ‘All I know is that what we do is not normal.’
‘I-’ Spain looked at him with wide eyes, stunned into silence until, after a moment, he seemed to put two, and two together. Judging from the suddenly pain- stricken look that he’d taken on, he’d come up with nine. ‘Is it because I’m a man, Romano?’ he said softly, pulling back entirely.
‘What?’ Romano asked, sounding incredulous. His disbelief melted into irritation, which further exploded into out and out anger. ‘Jesus, if that was such a massive issue, don’t you think I would have said something months ago? God, Spain! I don’t know how the Hell you always seem to miss the fucking point so spectacularly.’
‘But you-’
‘But I what?’ Romano interrupted him, growing more, and more furious by the second. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been worrying about your bullshit?’
‘My… bullshit?’ Spain parroted, eyebrows furrowed, and mouth pulled down as confusion returned to him.
‘Yes, your bullshit! I’m not the one with issues here, Spain. I’m perfectly fucking happy!’ he ranted, sounding anything but.
‘Roma, you’re not making any sense, I-’
‘You won’t fucking come!’
The room fell silent in the wake of such a staggering- and loudly declared- accusation. Spain sank back further, slumping slightly, face a picture of surprise, and looking for all the world as if the words had physically struck him. Romano glared steadily at him, as if daring him to deny everything. Spain swallowed heavily, and winced as he thought about how he was meant to proceed.
‘I… had hoped that you wouldn’t notice,’ he admitted. He could almost hear France call him a fool, so clearly that he half expected the man to be sitting besides him.
‘Wow, well yes, after months of it happening, I’m surprised that I noticed,’ Romano drawled sarcastically. ‘No fucking idea what gave it away.’
‘Romano-’
‘What? Is this the part where you tell me that it’s not me, it’s you? Is it? Because I already know that! You’re fucking lucky to have me!’
‘I know I am, Ro-’
‘Yeah, well you don’t fucking act like it!’ Romano snapped, eyes watering dangerously. ‘I’ve been worrying for months that you don’t really want me, and that you’re forcing yourself to touch me-’
‘Romano, that’s crazy!’ Spain interrupted, his voice almost a wail, and his expression horrified as he reflexively surged forward to grab Romano in a tight hug. He was immediately shoved away, and met with a fierce glare.
‘I know it’s crazy, stupid bastard, but what else am I supposed to think when you’d rather go to the toilet to finish yourself off, instead of letting me do it?’ he asked, folding his arms, although to Spain the gesture seemed rather vulnerable.
‘You,’ Spain cleared his throat, willing the images that were currently floating around in his head to go away. He forced a smile. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. I’m the boss, right? I’ll take care of us both.’
Wrong thing to say, judging by Romano’s extremely hurt expression. Very wrong thing to say. ‘So that’s what this is to you? A throwback to the days when I was your little fucking lackey? Jesus Christ, I thought that we’d moved beyond that. I really, really-’
‘Romano,’ Spain interrupted him desperately, attempting to reach out to take his hands in his. Romano refused to let go, and Spain was forced to let his hands hover uselessly in the air for a moment before he continued. ‘We are beyond that. I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I really didn’t.’
‘Well it doesn’t fucking seem like it!’ Romano snapped. ‘Do you think that I’m stupid? You know I’m not as fucking experienced as you are, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t let me try. I know that I’ll probably be shit to begin with, but I thought that you had more patience than that. I thought that you’d at least give me a chance, but no. As usual you go and make stupid decisions, well fuck you. I want to try too, you selfish bastard, and I don’t understand why you won’t let me. Unless you really don’t want me after all,’ Romano added quietly.
‘Romano, no!’ Spain shook his head wildly. ‘Romano, Romano, you can’t think that. I love you. Of course I want you. I want you more than anything else in the world!’
‘You have a funny way of showing it,’ Romano mumbled sulkily, flushing awkwardly at Spain’s words, and ducking his head, refusing to look at him.
‘Romano, you don’t understand,’ Spain sighed, suddenly sounding very tired.
His words only succeeded in irritating Romano further. ‘You’re damned fucking right I don’t understand,’ he growled. ‘You make little sense at the best of times, but this, this is beyond even my ability to handle, and I’ve been dealing with you for seven hundred fucking years.’
‘Okay.’
Romano’s tirade ground to a halt at that, and he fixed Spain with a confused glare. ‘Okay, what?’
‘Okay, I’ll try to explain. I kind of hoped that I wouldn’t have to, but I guess that would never have worked, huh? Just… promise me that you won’t hate me.’ Romano gave him a look that promised that he would promise nothing of the sort. Spain sighed heavily. He should have expected as much. Shifting upon the bed, he moved to sit beside where Romano was hunched up, and leaned against the headboard, not quite facing the other man, but reclined enough to be able to watch him comfortably.
‘I… am a greedy man, Romano,’ he said finally, gaze sliding guiltily to stare at the foot of the bed.
Romano snorted softly, sounding almost amused. ‘That’s your revelation? Telling me something that I already know.’
Spain flinched, and glanced back at the other, mouth set in an unusually serious, thin line. ‘No, you don’t know. I’m not talking about food, or anything trivial like that. I’m talking about who, and what I am.’ He broke off, shaking his head, face downcast, and expression almost remorseful. ‘I have lived a hedonistic life, blinded, and driven on by my own passions, and you deserve better than that. I will not use you to satisfy my own greedy nature, Romano. I refuse.’
Silence greeted Spain’s words.
Romano, after several long moments was the first to break it. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘I… I’ve done things, Romano. Things that I can’t justify, and am not proud of. I’m not going to keep apologising forever for being young, and foolish, but now that I’m older, and wiser, the least that I can do is show some respect, and some self- restraint where I couldn’t before.’
‘Are you hearing yourself speak?’ Romano scoffed, looking incredulous. ‘None of that has anything to do with me!’
‘It has everything to do with you, Romano,’ Spain said gravely. ‘You don’t understand. You were too young at the time. Conquest it… it gets into your mind, and it poisons your blood, and it never quite goes away, no matter how much you try to tell yourself that it’s gone. It becomes a mindless need, you get drunk on it, and you can’t just stop because you always need more. Even now, even as I’ve matured, some small part of me still wants it, but I refuse to listen to it. I absolutely refuse to turn you into another one of my conquests.’
‘Are you, stupid? It’s not the same-’
‘It is the same though, Roma, don’t you see that? I want you. I want you more than I ever wanted gold, and blood, and power, and do you have any idea what I did to take those things? The only difference, if there truly is one, is that I coveted those things, whereas I love you, and that is all that holds me back from just taking you all for myself. You don’t realise what I want from you, Roma. I want to monopolise you, make you all mine; make it so that you cannot live without me. I’m at the limits of my self- control around you, and it’s only got worse since you started to respond to me. God. You have no idea how hard it is for me to walk away from you, when all I want to do is mess you up even more, but I have to, Roma. You’re worth so much more than that.’ At that, Spain forced himself to stop, flinching, his face contorted in pain. He looked away, eyes focusing on his feet, lashes lowered, and cheeks burning in shame.
Romano remained silent for a long moment, studying Spain with a thoughtful expression. ‘You utter fucking moron.’
Spain’s head immediately whipped back around to stare at Romano in surprise. ‘Wh-?’
‘You- you’re an egotistical creep, and you’re just as much an arrogant son of a bitch as you were when I was a kid. Do you honestly think that I’m such a fucking push- over that I’d let you “take me”? Do you really, truly fucking think that if you started doing shit that I didn’t like, that I wouldn’t knee you in the fucking balls, and tell you to piss off? Give me some credit. I’m the South of Italy, and you might have raised me, but that doesn’t mean that I’m that fucking easy to conquer if I don’t want it.’
‘Ro-’
‘Don’t interrupt me, idiot. You’re so selfish! You’re all give, give, give, well don’t you think that I want to try fucking giving for once? This relationship shit is meant to be about mutuality, right? I love you, you love me, we fuck around. Whatever happened to mutual pleasure? Jesus! You have some backwards sort of respect going on, Spain.’
‘Err-’
‘Look,’ Romano sighed raggedly, slouching suddenly, and running his hand through his hair. ‘I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of worrying about this shit. I chose- for some stupid reason- to be with you, and you’re ruining how I thought it would be. I’m not your shot at redemption; I’m your… I don’t know, your lover, or whatever, and I want to be treated like one. So you know what? Since you won’t get over yourself enough to be with me, you need to make a choice, Spain. Me, or you.’
Spain, for once in his entire life, was absolutely speechless, eyes wide, and body frozen in stunned shock. All at once, the ice in his veins melted. His cheeks took on a rosy hue, mouth curving into a soft smile as he impulsively threw his arms around Romano’s frame, and drew him to his chest in a bear- like hug. ‘Dumb question, Roma. You know that I’ll always choose you over anyone else.’
‘Good,’ Romano nodded. ‘Good,’ he said again, tentatively reaching up to slide his arms around Spain’s neck. They sat in silence for some moments, Spain nuzzling the hair at Romano’s temple, and Romano scowling down at the pillows with red cheeks, embarrassed as to what he knew he needed to say next. He considered not speaking at all, but knew that it was something that Spain needed to hear, no matter how stupid it was. He sighed, and tilted his head, knocking it affectionately against the side of Spain’s own temple. ‘You know, you can’t take something that’s given to you. You accept it. Being given something is nothing like forcefully taking it.’
Spain froze, surprised at Romano’s words. He remained quiet for a few, long seconds before he released a ragged breath. Slowly, and purposefully, he slid his hands lower, until they were clasped at Romano’s waist. Still moving almost hesitantly, he leaned them both gradually down until they were laying fully upon the bed, Romano with his head upon a pillow, and Spain at his side, looming over him. At the lack of protest he received, Spain stared down at Romano, studying him carefully. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Spain whispered finally, dipping his head low enough to feel Romano’s breath upon his lips with every word, making them tangible, a trophy that he could lock up in his heart.
‘Of course I’m right. I’m always right. I thought you knew that.’ Spain’s soft laugh caused him to shiver, his tongue poking out to wet his lips without thought. ‘You dumb bastard…’
‘Mmmm?’ Spain hummed out, lips brushing against Romano’s, the sweetest promise of a kiss.
‘Spain…’ Romano’s voice was a whisper, strained, raw, and beautifully honest. ‘I- I don’t know what else I can say.’
The desperation in Romano’s voice was all it took. The cracks in Spain’s resolve finally gave way, the walls of his attempted atonement crumbling in seconds as years, and years of pent up passion, and longing, and desire crashed through him, love, and adoration merging with it to overwhelm him into dropping any façade of restraint.
He leaned down as Romano rose, meeting open- mouthed somewhere in the middle, all pretences dropped. There would be plenty of time for soft, chaste kisses later but now, right now, caught in this moment with echoes of a promise to finally move forwards hanging in the air, only this would do.
It was like they were kissing for the first time. Sloppy, hurried, and lacking the usual finesse of their kisses, their mouths seeming to have forgotten all technique, and style. And yet the sheer, overpowering honesty, the mutual want, the desperation to be as close together as two beings could possibly get made Romano’s mind go blank, and his bare toes curl against the thin cotton of the sheets.
Spain pulled back, smiling softly at Romano as he framed his face with his hands, thumbs smoothing a gentle touch over his flushed cheeks. His eyes were fixed upon the younger man, staring at him intently, memorising every fine detail of a face that he had watched grow into something beautiful. He was still a little unsure, Romano could see it in his eyes, but for the moment, he buried it beneath his trust that Romano would not allow him to follow the wrong path.
With another smile, wider than the last, Spain drew his arms around Romano’s smaller frame, splaying his hands across his back. For a brief moment he paused, taking a small amount of pleasure from the heat that tingled at his fingertips, but he broke free of it, instead shifting his weight suddenly in order to draw Romano up. Surprised at the sudden sensation of his world turning around, Romano found himself settled over Spain a moment later, thighs parted on either side of Spain’s, knees digging into the bedcovers. He stared down at Spain, eyes wide, and mouth dropping into a surprised, little, ‘o’.
Spain merely smiled back, mouth curling lazily, sensuously, his eyes heavy lidded, and darkened with something faintly feral in a way that had Romano gulping nervously at the delicious little ache that had settled itself in the pit of his stomach.
‘You said that you wanted to try?’ Spain shrugged when Romano remained frozen, and unsure.
The response was immediate. Cheeks flaring in colour, and brows drawing down into his characteristic frown, Romano found the spell broken, spluttering in a rather undignified manner before finally managing to respond with a ‘Bastard!’
Spain laughed- Romano suddenly wished that he was sitting on his stomach, because the sensations would have probably been amazing and Jesus, what the Hell was he thinking? This lack of sex thing was really turning him into a pervert- and moved one of his hands to smooth a soft touch over Romano’s thigh. ‘You don’t have to worry about messing up, Roma. I’m so excited that anything you do will probably make me so happy that I can’t stand it!’
Romano puffed his cheeks out at that, glaring at Spain half- heartedly as he gingerly moved to sit upon his stomach. Trying to ignore the sudden warmth that seemed to radiate from the point of their contact, he crossed his arms, and looked sulky. ‘Motivational, Spain. You really know how to inspire confidence, don’t you?’
‘Ehhhh? No, Romano!’ Spain pouted (in a way that no man his age should), reaching out to grip at Romano’s thighs. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, honestly. I just mean to say that you won’t do anything wrong. Nothing that you could do could be wrong.’
Romano’s heart gave an irritating thud in his chest, and for a worrying moment, he almost allowed his lips to curve into the bashful, little smile that he was suddenly holding back.
‘Shut up,’ he said instead.
Even to Spain’s ears it sounded nothing less than fond.
Casting any further words aside, Romano allowed his arms to unfold, and his hands to move to rest against Spain’s chest. Despite his focussed expression, he moved them in an almost dream- like state, acting largely out of instinct, savouring in the warmth that radiated from the torso of the other man, even through the fabric of his clothes. Intrigued by the contours that his fingers found, his hands slid down further, and then back up again, meeting the bare skin of Spain’s stomach, pushing his shirt up as he went. Hard muscle met his wandering fingers, smooth, and rippling under his touch, offering only the tiniest notion of the sheer power that they had once carried, and probably carried still. It startled him, the sudden realisation that in all the years of seeing Spain shirtless, of wrapping his wounds, of sharing his bed, he had never once allowed himself to truly touch the skin that he had drank in the sight of for so long. The thought made him gulp heavily, and slide his hands up further.
Spain, though not moaning, encouraged him with approving sounds, and little nods, sitting up slightly, and stripping the shirt off when it began to bunch up under his arms. Romano could only stare, eyes roving the bared skin before him, marvelling at the contrast between Spain’s, and his own, so similar, and yet so different. Centuries of war, and agriculture had shaped him; pale criss- crossings of faded scars upon bronzed skin standing testimony to times forgotten by all but themselves. To Romano’s eyes, he was a work of art, the warmth, and life in his amused smile, and his heavy- lidded eyes, and the steady rise and fall of his chest making even David absolutely incomparable to him in that moment.
Without really intending to, Romano’s hand found itself pressed against Spain’s skin, palm pushed to where he knew Spain’s heart to be. For a moment he simply stared at his hand, holding his breath as he silently counted along with the beating of Spain’s heart, just like he had when he was a kid, freshly awoken from nightmares, Spain too deeply asleep to notice, Romano too terrified of being left alone. One, two, three-
He clicked his tongue, irritated by his slip into childish habits. Lifting his palm away from the skin, he trailed his fingertips down, flitting over a dusky nipple, tracing the ridge of a rib- bone, dipping into his naval. The texture changed slightly, the change intriguing, and exciting to Romano’s fingertips. He revelled in it, enjoying the alternating feel of the skin of Spain’s stomach, and the thin trail of hair that encouraged him to trail his path lower, and lower until he found himself startled by the texture of material beneath his fingertips.
He toyed briefly with the waist of Spain’s simple, black trousers, flitting his fingertips lower in order to trace the smooth plastic of the button. Overcome with a strange bashfulness, almost as if he couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to even consider unbuttoning that which his fingers had found, Romano focused instead on the sharp jut of Spain’s collarbone, staring at the dip where they met, just beneath his throat that was tantalisingly prominent. Leaning down, he acted on instinct, drawing his tongue out to delve into the hollow. His fingers worked at plucking the button undone, and sliding the zipper down even as his mouth slid upwards, finding, and sucking upon Spain’s Adam’s apple, because somehow it was so much easier to deal with what was happening, and was about to happen when he had something small to focus upon.
Spain’s breathing had picked up, perhaps in anticipation, but he did nothing to guide Romano into doing what he surely must have wanted him to. For a long moment, Romano wished that he would, since his own hand had faltered, hesitating uselessly a few short centimetres over the sliver of red underwear peeking out from where the front of Spain’s trousers hung open a fraction.
The moment hung heavily in the air, and yet Spain remained motionless, patiently lying back as Romano took a moment to allow a small tremble to run through him. Clenching his eyes shut, Romano called himself a fool and a coward -fuckfuckfuckfuck why couldn’t he just fucking do it? - berating himself as he recalled the many times when Spain had moved without pause, letting passion guide his motions. Fuck.
(On to part two...)
Author/Artist: Some pervert. >3>;
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain/ Romano
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Slight sexual situations. Okay. Sexual situations. Detailed sexual situations. Fine. It's fangirly porn.. BT
Summary: 11,000 words of porn with a vague plot After hundreds of years in the making, Romano is in what he would grudgingly call a relationship with Spain. At least he thinks he is. He's really not sure. Weren't relationships meant to be about mutual give, and take, after all?
Sensationally cut into two parts because it's too bloody long. B|
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Someone told me to "write porn" so I did. The result was something verging on Mills and Boon. /facepalm...
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The heat was almost oppressive, wrapping around his chest in a vice grip, constricting him. He gasped for breath, but it was almost as if the air around him had become tangible, flooding his throat with every great heave of his chest, snatching any blissful relief that his lungs so desperately sought. He was burning up, his heart thudded, his entire being throbbed in desperation, fingernails scrabbling at the material of crisp, white cotton, clawing himself closer, and closer-
He shuddered, entire body pulling taught, breath hissing out from between his clenched teeth. Consciousness seeped back into him, settling deep into his bones, readjusting to the familiar weight of his body, even as Spain’s hand on him continued to move, soft caresses around him helping him to ride out the last waves of his orgasm.
His knees buckled, flagging energy causing him to teeter where he stood. It took him a long moment- until he could focus on something other than the need to breathe- to realise that he was being clasped to Spain’s chest, the man’s scent, and heat, and soft voice surrounding him like a cocoon, flooding his senses until all that he knew in the world was Spain.
The moment faded, sense beginning to return to him. Straightening up, he pushed Spain away, urging him to release him from his tight hold in order to lean back against the wall that he had previously been pressed so seamlessly against. Spain let go with a smile, leaning in briefly to press a soft kiss to Romano’s lips, before pulling back, raising the hand that had been spattered with Romano’s come, and nonchalantly licking it clean in an action that was bizarrely cat- like. Romano watched him with heavily- lidded eyes, finding the display extremely erotic, but still too tired from his recent orgasm to get aroused again so quickly. Licking his lips, Romano glanced down, reaching out slowly with hands that felt like dead weights in order to grab at Spain’s hips.
And then Spain pulled away entirely, flashing Romano what could only be called a gentle smile.
‘You must be hungry, Romano. I’ll go and make a start on lunch.’
With an absentminded nod, Spain left the room, leaving an irritated, and frustrated Romano to pull his trousers back up.
--
It had taken Romano a longer time than he liked to admit to notice that something was extremely odd about his, and Spain’s trysts. No, odd was not the right word for it. As the days, and weeks, and months rolled by, Romano was sure that there was, in fact, something wrong with them.
Initially, it had been the newness that had blinded Romano. The exciting step into new territory that he had spent so many years craving to enter. He hadn’t been particularly experienced when Spain began his kisses, and his touches, but neither had he been wholly innocent. He’d fooled around with a few girls, but Spain had been a different matter altogether. Spain had, much as he was loath to admit it, been the centre of his life for almost as long as he could remember, and the shift in their relationship from platonic love, to one that expressed feelings through sexual actions hadn’t come soon enough for Romano. In Spain’s hands, he felt as virginal as the fresh- fallen snow, and so, in the initial few days, and weeks, his mind had been so caught up in how fucking good it all felt, and how fucking gratifying it was after years of fantasising, that nothing had seemed strange to him in the slightest.
He honestly couldn’t remember how it had suddenly clicked- a sudden, and slightly shocking realisation that he’d never actually made Spain come. At first he had been perplexed by it before writing it off as Spain having the attention span of a gnat, and the spirit of an explorer, who probably saw this new, sexual side to Romano as an extremely interesting thing to investigate. However, following that line of thought, Romano also remembered shortly after creating that hypothesis that Spain was an extremely greedy man, especially when he was exploring (there was almost an entire continent that could attest to that), so his refusal to seek his own pleasure made no sense.
After that, the doubt had come, staggering Romano into a crippling state of dread as old, poorly- buried fears, and self- esteem issues rose to the surface. Spain had always indulged him, spoilt him, done his best to keep him happy. Suddenly the development in their relationship had seemed very one- sided to Romano. Suddenly, Spain didn’t want him at all. He was just doing his best to indulge Romano’s own desires, forcing himself to touch Romano in a way that probably disgusted him, just to make Romano happy. The thought had twisted like a knife in his chest, his heart aching, accusing him of greed, and of selfishness. He had wanted to be furious with Spain, but instead he felt furious with himself. The things that he’d forced the poor man into doing… he was such an egotistical little shit.
On the night that he had planned to do the noble thing, and spare Spain any more grief, Spain had interrupted the beginning of his well- practiced speech with a kiss. A deep, sensuous, toe- curling kind of kiss. Romano’s favourite kind of kiss. Naturally, he’d promptly forgotten what he hadn’t wanted to say in the first place, and it wasn’t until Spain had him pinned down onto the settee, hand fisted around his cock, and driving him on with long, firm strokes, that some guilty little bubble had risen within him. He’d opened his mouth, on the verge of telling Spain to stop, on the verge of breaking his own heart, when Spain had shifted against him slightly. The movement, though slight, had caused Romano’s mouth to snap shut again in amazement.
After that, his fears about Spain performing some kind of strange duty had vanished. That moment on the settee had proven what he had been daring to hope- he had aroused Spain. Spain wanted him. Spain lusted after him. It was mind- blowing, the thought alone leaving him breathless, and dizzy, and warm in a way that felt suspiciously like joy. The problem was that it bought him around to his first issue- he had still never made Spain come. Fair enough, he’d never really made any effort to shove his hands into Spain’s pants, or anything, but Spain was clearly far more experienced than him in this kind of thing, so he had just sort of assumed that he would guide him along. He obviously liked to be in control during those sorts of activities, and though Romano wasn’t exactly lacking in pride, he was happy to let him, lest he attempt to take charge himself, do a clumsy job of it, and end up embarrassing himself.
It was clear to him, once his silly little fears had abated, that Spain enjoyed getting him off. In fact, one of the times when he had used his mouth, Romano had strongly suspected that he had, in fact, come in his pants. After that, the way in which Spain left him so soon after he had bought him to orgasm grew increasingly more suspicious and Romano was, ridiculous as it sounded, beginning to actually entertain the notion that perhaps Spain was leaving him in order to finish himself off elsewhere. It was such a bizarre idea to Romano that it took him a long time to gather the courage to pad quietly after Spain as soon as the other had made his usual hasty exit. Sure enough, he’d headed straight for the nearest bathroom, and didn’t emerge from it until several minutes had passed.
At that point, Romano truly didn’t know what to think any more.
He must have been spending far too much time around Spain for him to have been optimistic enough to hope that he and Spain could have anything remotely resembling a normal relationship. Sure, they both had a fuckton of issues to work out, but Romano had really rather hoped that they’d just get resolved on their own over time, or something. True love winning over all, and the rest of that bullshit.
Life had a habit of kicking you in the balls though, and, after months of gradually figuring out just what the fuck was going on in Spain’s head, Romano had finally come to an understanding. Fuck making sense of the situation. Spain was an idiot, and if Romano didn’t do something about it, then Spain as clearly going to doom them both to a very confusing, very one- sided, and very stressful sex life.
It was with a heavy, tired sigh that came out more like a growl, that Romano resigned himself to the task of actually getting Spain to let him reciprocate. Maybe, just maybe, he’d even let them have sex, and… and Romano couldn’t believe what he was thinking. The whole situation was insane.
--
‘Spain, I want sex,’ Romano stated the very night that he’d made his mind up to act, sitting up in bed, and fixing Spain with an expectant look.
Well he never had been one to beat around the bush.
However, even for someone who knew him as well as Spain did, Spain still had to pause in where he was reaching over to pull at his hair curl.
‘Eh? Romano that’s what I was trying to do, silly,’ he responded with a confused smile, resuming in his plan to grab at that perpetually errant, and rather appealing strand of hair.
Romano smacked his hand away. ‘I don’t mean “I want you to get me off”, you bastard. I mean I want to have sex with you.”
Spain paused again, fixing Romano with a rather mystified look. ‘I’m not following you.’
‘For God’s-’ Romano groaned, rolling his eyes. ‘Spain. I want to have us to have sex like normal people do.’
‘They have sex differently to us?’
‘No! Yes. I don’t know!’ Romano snapped. ‘All I know is that what we do is not normal.’
‘I-’ Spain looked at him with wide eyes, stunned into silence until, after a moment, he seemed to put two, and two together. Judging from the suddenly pain- stricken look that he’d taken on, he’d come up with nine. ‘Is it because I’m a man, Romano?’ he said softly, pulling back entirely.
‘What?’ Romano asked, sounding incredulous. His disbelief melted into irritation, which further exploded into out and out anger. ‘Jesus, if that was such a massive issue, don’t you think I would have said something months ago? God, Spain! I don’t know how the Hell you always seem to miss the fucking point so spectacularly.’
‘But you-’
‘But I what?’ Romano interrupted him, growing more, and more furious by the second. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been worrying about your bullshit?’
‘My… bullshit?’ Spain parroted, eyebrows furrowed, and mouth pulled down as confusion returned to him.
‘Yes, your bullshit! I’m not the one with issues here, Spain. I’m perfectly fucking happy!’ he ranted, sounding anything but.
‘Roma, you’re not making any sense, I-’
‘You won’t fucking come!’
The room fell silent in the wake of such a staggering- and loudly declared- accusation. Spain sank back further, slumping slightly, face a picture of surprise, and looking for all the world as if the words had physically struck him. Romano glared steadily at him, as if daring him to deny everything. Spain swallowed heavily, and winced as he thought about how he was meant to proceed.
‘I… had hoped that you wouldn’t notice,’ he admitted. He could almost hear France call him a fool, so clearly that he half expected the man to be sitting besides him.
‘Wow, well yes, after months of it happening, I’m surprised that I noticed,’ Romano drawled sarcastically. ‘No fucking idea what gave it away.’
‘Romano-’
‘What? Is this the part where you tell me that it’s not me, it’s you? Is it? Because I already know that! You’re fucking lucky to have me!’
‘I know I am, Ro-’
‘Yeah, well you don’t fucking act like it!’ Romano snapped, eyes watering dangerously. ‘I’ve been worrying for months that you don’t really want me, and that you’re forcing yourself to touch me-’
‘Romano, that’s crazy!’ Spain interrupted, his voice almost a wail, and his expression horrified as he reflexively surged forward to grab Romano in a tight hug. He was immediately shoved away, and met with a fierce glare.
‘I know it’s crazy, stupid bastard, but what else am I supposed to think when you’d rather go to the toilet to finish yourself off, instead of letting me do it?’ he asked, folding his arms, although to Spain the gesture seemed rather vulnerable.
‘You,’ Spain cleared his throat, willing the images that were currently floating around in his head to go away. He forced a smile. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. I’m the boss, right? I’ll take care of us both.’
Wrong thing to say, judging by Romano’s extremely hurt expression. Very wrong thing to say. ‘So that’s what this is to you? A throwback to the days when I was your little fucking lackey? Jesus Christ, I thought that we’d moved beyond that. I really, really-’
‘Romano,’ Spain interrupted him desperately, attempting to reach out to take his hands in his. Romano refused to let go, and Spain was forced to let his hands hover uselessly in the air for a moment before he continued. ‘We are beyond that. I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I really didn’t.’
‘Well it doesn’t fucking seem like it!’ Romano snapped. ‘Do you think that I’m stupid? You know I’m not as fucking experienced as you are, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t let me try. I know that I’ll probably be shit to begin with, but I thought that you had more patience than that. I thought that you’d at least give me a chance, but no. As usual you go and make stupid decisions, well fuck you. I want to try too, you selfish bastard, and I don’t understand why you won’t let me. Unless you really don’t want me after all,’ Romano added quietly.
‘Romano, no!’ Spain shook his head wildly. ‘Romano, Romano, you can’t think that. I love you. Of course I want you. I want you more than anything else in the world!’
‘You have a funny way of showing it,’ Romano mumbled sulkily, flushing awkwardly at Spain’s words, and ducking his head, refusing to look at him.
‘Romano, you don’t understand,’ Spain sighed, suddenly sounding very tired.
His words only succeeded in irritating Romano further. ‘You’re damned fucking right I don’t understand,’ he growled. ‘You make little sense at the best of times, but this, this is beyond even my ability to handle, and I’ve been dealing with you for seven hundred fucking years.’
‘Okay.’
Romano’s tirade ground to a halt at that, and he fixed Spain with a confused glare. ‘Okay, what?’
‘Okay, I’ll try to explain. I kind of hoped that I wouldn’t have to, but I guess that would never have worked, huh? Just… promise me that you won’t hate me.’ Romano gave him a look that promised that he would promise nothing of the sort. Spain sighed heavily. He should have expected as much. Shifting upon the bed, he moved to sit beside where Romano was hunched up, and leaned against the headboard, not quite facing the other man, but reclined enough to be able to watch him comfortably.
‘I… am a greedy man, Romano,’ he said finally, gaze sliding guiltily to stare at the foot of the bed.
Romano snorted softly, sounding almost amused. ‘That’s your revelation? Telling me something that I already know.’
Spain flinched, and glanced back at the other, mouth set in an unusually serious, thin line. ‘No, you don’t know. I’m not talking about food, or anything trivial like that. I’m talking about who, and what I am.’ He broke off, shaking his head, face downcast, and expression almost remorseful. ‘I have lived a hedonistic life, blinded, and driven on by my own passions, and you deserve better than that. I will not use you to satisfy my own greedy nature, Romano. I refuse.’
Silence greeted Spain’s words.
Romano, after several long moments was the first to break it. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘I… I’ve done things, Romano. Things that I can’t justify, and am not proud of. I’m not going to keep apologising forever for being young, and foolish, but now that I’m older, and wiser, the least that I can do is show some respect, and some self- restraint where I couldn’t before.’
‘Are you hearing yourself speak?’ Romano scoffed, looking incredulous. ‘None of that has anything to do with me!’
‘It has everything to do with you, Romano,’ Spain said gravely. ‘You don’t understand. You were too young at the time. Conquest it… it gets into your mind, and it poisons your blood, and it never quite goes away, no matter how much you try to tell yourself that it’s gone. It becomes a mindless need, you get drunk on it, and you can’t just stop because you always need more. Even now, even as I’ve matured, some small part of me still wants it, but I refuse to listen to it. I absolutely refuse to turn you into another one of my conquests.’
‘Are you, stupid? It’s not the same-’
‘It is the same though, Roma, don’t you see that? I want you. I want you more than I ever wanted gold, and blood, and power, and do you have any idea what I did to take those things? The only difference, if there truly is one, is that I coveted those things, whereas I love you, and that is all that holds me back from just taking you all for myself. You don’t realise what I want from you, Roma. I want to monopolise you, make you all mine; make it so that you cannot live without me. I’m at the limits of my self- control around you, and it’s only got worse since you started to respond to me. God. You have no idea how hard it is for me to walk away from you, when all I want to do is mess you up even more, but I have to, Roma. You’re worth so much more than that.’ At that, Spain forced himself to stop, flinching, his face contorted in pain. He looked away, eyes focusing on his feet, lashes lowered, and cheeks burning in shame.
Romano remained silent for a long moment, studying Spain with a thoughtful expression. ‘You utter fucking moron.’
Spain’s head immediately whipped back around to stare at Romano in surprise. ‘Wh-?’
‘You- you’re an egotistical creep, and you’re just as much an arrogant son of a bitch as you were when I was a kid. Do you honestly think that I’m such a fucking push- over that I’d let you “take me”? Do you really, truly fucking think that if you started doing shit that I didn’t like, that I wouldn’t knee you in the fucking balls, and tell you to piss off? Give me some credit. I’m the South of Italy, and you might have raised me, but that doesn’t mean that I’m that fucking easy to conquer if I don’t want it.’
‘Ro-’
‘Don’t interrupt me, idiot. You’re so selfish! You’re all give, give, give, well don’t you think that I want to try fucking giving for once? This relationship shit is meant to be about mutuality, right? I love you, you love me, we fuck around. Whatever happened to mutual pleasure? Jesus! You have some backwards sort of respect going on, Spain.’
‘Err-’
‘Look,’ Romano sighed raggedly, slouching suddenly, and running his hand through his hair. ‘I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of worrying about this shit. I chose- for some stupid reason- to be with you, and you’re ruining how I thought it would be. I’m not your shot at redemption; I’m your… I don’t know, your lover, or whatever, and I want to be treated like one. So you know what? Since you won’t get over yourself enough to be with me, you need to make a choice, Spain. Me, or you.’
Spain, for once in his entire life, was absolutely speechless, eyes wide, and body frozen in stunned shock. All at once, the ice in his veins melted. His cheeks took on a rosy hue, mouth curving into a soft smile as he impulsively threw his arms around Romano’s frame, and drew him to his chest in a bear- like hug. ‘Dumb question, Roma. You know that I’ll always choose you over anyone else.’
‘Good,’ Romano nodded. ‘Good,’ he said again, tentatively reaching up to slide his arms around Spain’s neck. They sat in silence for some moments, Spain nuzzling the hair at Romano’s temple, and Romano scowling down at the pillows with red cheeks, embarrassed as to what he knew he needed to say next. He considered not speaking at all, but knew that it was something that Spain needed to hear, no matter how stupid it was. He sighed, and tilted his head, knocking it affectionately against the side of Spain’s own temple. ‘You know, you can’t take something that’s given to you. You accept it. Being given something is nothing like forcefully taking it.’
Spain froze, surprised at Romano’s words. He remained quiet for a few, long seconds before he released a ragged breath. Slowly, and purposefully, he slid his hands lower, until they were clasped at Romano’s waist. Still moving almost hesitantly, he leaned them both gradually down until they were laying fully upon the bed, Romano with his head upon a pillow, and Spain at his side, looming over him. At the lack of protest he received, Spain stared down at Romano, studying him carefully. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Spain whispered finally, dipping his head low enough to feel Romano’s breath upon his lips with every word, making them tangible, a trophy that he could lock up in his heart.
‘Of course I’m right. I’m always right. I thought you knew that.’ Spain’s soft laugh caused him to shiver, his tongue poking out to wet his lips without thought. ‘You dumb bastard…’
‘Mmmm?’ Spain hummed out, lips brushing against Romano’s, the sweetest promise of a kiss.
‘Spain…’ Romano’s voice was a whisper, strained, raw, and beautifully honest. ‘I- I don’t know what else I can say.’
The desperation in Romano’s voice was all it took. The cracks in Spain’s resolve finally gave way, the walls of his attempted atonement crumbling in seconds as years, and years of pent up passion, and longing, and desire crashed through him, love, and adoration merging with it to overwhelm him into dropping any façade of restraint.
He leaned down as Romano rose, meeting open- mouthed somewhere in the middle, all pretences dropped. There would be plenty of time for soft, chaste kisses later but now, right now, caught in this moment with echoes of a promise to finally move forwards hanging in the air, only this would do.
It was like they were kissing for the first time. Sloppy, hurried, and lacking the usual finesse of their kisses, their mouths seeming to have forgotten all technique, and style. And yet the sheer, overpowering honesty, the mutual want, the desperation to be as close together as two beings could possibly get made Romano’s mind go blank, and his bare toes curl against the thin cotton of the sheets.
Spain pulled back, smiling softly at Romano as he framed his face with his hands, thumbs smoothing a gentle touch over his flushed cheeks. His eyes were fixed upon the younger man, staring at him intently, memorising every fine detail of a face that he had watched grow into something beautiful. He was still a little unsure, Romano could see it in his eyes, but for the moment, he buried it beneath his trust that Romano would not allow him to follow the wrong path.
With another smile, wider than the last, Spain drew his arms around Romano’s smaller frame, splaying his hands across his back. For a brief moment he paused, taking a small amount of pleasure from the heat that tingled at his fingertips, but he broke free of it, instead shifting his weight suddenly in order to draw Romano up. Surprised at the sudden sensation of his world turning around, Romano found himself settled over Spain a moment later, thighs parted on either side of Spain’s, knees digging into the bedcovers. He stared down at Spain, eyes wide, and mouth dropping into a surprised, little, ‘o’.
Spain merely smiled back, mouth curling lazily, sensuously, his eyes heavy lidded, and darkened with something faintly feral in a way that had Romano gulping nervously at the delicious little ache that had settled itself in the pit of his stomach.
‘You said that you wanted to try?’ Spain shrugged when Romano remained frozen, and unsure.
The response was immediate. Cheeks flaring in colour, and brows drawing down into his characteristic frown, Romano found the spell broken, spluttering in a rather undignified manner before finally managing to respond with a ‘Bastard!’
Spain laughed- Romano suddenly wished that he was sitting on his stomach, because the sensations would have probably been amazing and Jesus, what the Hell was he thinking? This lack of sex thing was really turning him into a pervert- and moved one of his hands to smooth a soft touch over Romano’s thigh. ‘You don’t have to worry about messing up, Roma. I’m so excited that anything you do will probably make me so happy that I can’t stand it!’
Romano puffed his cheeks out at that, glaring at Spain half- heartedly as he gingerly moved to sit upon his stomach. Trying to ignore the sudden warmth that seemed to radiate from the point of their contact, he crossed his arms, and looked sulky. ‘Motivational, Spain. You really know how to inspire confidence, don’t you?’
‘Ehhhh? No, Romano!’ Spain pouted (in a way that no man his age should), reaching out to grip at Romano’s thighs. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, honestly. I just mean to say that you won’t do anything wrong. Nothing that you could do could be wrong.’
Romano’s heart gave an irritating thud in his chest, and for a worrying moment, he almost allowed his lips to curve into the bashful, little smile that he was suddenly holding back.
‘Shut up,’ he said instead.
Even to Spain’s ears it sounded nothing less than fond.
Casting any further words aside, Romano allowed his arms to unfold, and his hands to move to rest against Spain’s chest. Despite his focussed expression, he moved them in an almost dream- like state, acting largely out of instinct, savouring in the warmth that radiated from the torso of the other man, even through the fabric of his clothes. Intrigued by the contours that his fingers found, his hands slid down further, and then back up again, meeting the bare skin of Spain’s stomach, pushing his shirt up as he went. Hard muscle met his wandering fingers, smooth, and rippling under his touch, offering only the tiniest notion of the sheer power that they had once carried, and probably carried still. It startled him, the sudden realisation that in all the years of seeing Spain shirtless, of wrapping his wounds, of sharing his bed, he had never once allowed himself to truly touch the skin that he had drank in the sight of for so long. The thought made him gulp heavily, and slide his hands up further.
Spain, though not moaning, encouraged him with approving sounds, and little nods, sitting up slightly, and stripping the shirt off when it began to bunch up under his arms. Romano could only stare, eyes roving the bared skin before him, marvelling at the contrast between Spain’s, and his own, so similar, and yet so different. Centuries of war, and agriculture had shaped him; pale criss- crossings of faded scars upon bronzed skin standing testimony to times forgotten by all but themselves. To Romano’s eyes, he was a work of art, the warmth, and life in his amused smile, and his heavy- lidded eyes, and the steady rise and fall of his chest making even David absolutely incomparable to him in that moment.
Without really intending to, Romano’s hand found itself pressed against Spain’s skin, palm pushed to where he knew Spain’s heart to be. For a moment he simply stared at his hand, holding his breath as he silently counted along with the beating of Spain’s heart, just like he had when he was a kid, freshly awoken from nightmares, Spain too deeply asleep to notice, Romano too terrified of being left alone. One, two, three-
He clicked his tongue, irritated by his slip into childish habits. Lifting his palm away from the skin, he trailed his fingertips down, flitting over a dusky nipple, tracing the ridge of a rib- bone, dipping into his naval. The texture changed slightly, the change intriguing, and exciting to Romano’s fingertips. He revelled in it, enjoying the alternating feel of the skin of Spain’s stomach, and the thin trail of hair that encouraged him to trail his path lower, and lower until he found himself startled by the texture of material beneath his fingertips.
He toyed briefly with the waist of Spain’s simple, black trousers, flitting his fingertips lower in order to trace the smooth plastic of the button. Overcome with a strange bashfulness, almost as if he couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to even consider unbuttoning that which his fingers had found, Romano focused instead on the sharp jut of Spain’s collarbone, staring at the dip where they met, just beneath his throat that was tantalisingly prominent. Leaning down, he acted on instinct, drawing his tongue out to delve into the hollow. His fingers worked at plucking the button undone, and sliding the zipper down even as his mouth slid upwards, finding, and sucking upon Spain’s Adam’s apple, because somehow it was so much easier to deal with what was happening, and was about to happen when he had something small to focus upon.
Spain’s breathing had picked up, perhaps in anticipation, but he did nothing to guide Romano into doing what he surely must have wanted him to. For a long moment, Romano wished that he would, since his own hand had faltered, hesitating uselessly a few short centimetres over the sliver of red underwear peeking out from where the front of Spain’s trousers hung open a fraction.
The moment hung heavily in the air, and yet Spain remained motionless, patiently lying back as Romano took a moment to allow a small tremble to run through him. Clenching his eyes shut, Romano called himself a fool and a coward -fuckfuckfuckfuck why couldn’t he just fucking do it? - berating himself as he recalled the many times when Spain had moved without pause, letting passion guide his motions. Fuck.
(On to part two...)