Cross-posted from hetachallenge
Aug. 14th, 2012 03:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiramaru7
La Danza Dell’amore
By kira
Author’s notes: The first Song Spain sings is called “Eres tú” by Juan Carlos Calderon, the second is “Volare” by Domenico Modugno and Franco Migliacci.
Spain sat in the kitchen, lazily strumming his guitar, while he watched his beloved Romano make what he called “red gravy” from the basket of tomatoes he had picked this morning. The smell of garlic and fresh basil filled the kitchen. Spain did not need to see his face to know he was smiling, once he had added the basil, he knew Romano was finished with the sauce. It would be left on the stove, covered, while he added a couple of handfuls of spaghetti to the pot of boiling water next to it and gave it a stir.
“What are you looking at, Tomato-bastard?”’
“Nothing…” Spain strummed his guitar and sang softly in Spanish, while he pretended to ignore him.
“I’m not your servant anymore,” Romano reminded him, giving the pasta an angry stir. “So I don’t have to make you lunch anymore.”
“I know…” Spain said airily.
“Stupid Tomato-bastard!” Romano mumbled just loud enough for Spain to hear.
“Como una promesa, eres tú, eres tú... Como una mañana de verano… Como una sonrisa, eres tú, eres tú… Así, así, eres tú…” Spain sang softly. “Como mi esperanza, eres tú, eres tú… Como lluvia fresca en mis manos… como fuerte brisa, eres tú, eres tú… Así, así, eres tú…”
“Shut up!” Romano scowled. Reaching for a colander, he set it in the sink and turned to get the pot with the pasta.
“You want me to sing something in Italian for you?”
“NO!”
Spain smiled. “Penso che un sogno così non ritorni mai più... Mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu… Poi d'improvviso venivo dal vento rapito… E incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito… Volare, oh, oh! Cantare, oh, oh, oh, oh! Nel blu, dipinto di blu… Felice di stare lassù… E volavo, volavo felice più in alto del sole ed ancora più su… Mentre il mondo pian piano spariva lontano laggiù… Una musica dolce suonava soltanto per me…”
“Shut up! Make yourself useful, Tomato-bastard, and go set the table!”
Spain chuckled as he set his guitar aside and got up to do as he was bidden. He loved it whenever Romano got angry at him because the fire he saw in his fellow country’s eyes always went straight to his groin. He used to swear to France and Prussia that Romano could stand there and read a grocery list in that angry tone of voice and it would be all Spain could do to keep from dragging him off to his bedroom. He had it and he had it bad and there was not a damned thing he was willing to do about it. He loved being bossed around by his beloved Pequeño Tomate and he had spent many a lonely night wondering if Romano would be that bossy in bed before he found out. While deliciously naughty thoughts about Romano danced in his head, Spain took two plates down from the rack over the sink. Placing them on the table he turned and brushed past Romano on his way to get some silverware.
“Careful, Tomato-bastard! I nearly dropped it!” Romano turned around, holding a platter of spaghetti that was covered with sauce. “And don’t forget the spoons this time!”
“¡Perdón!” Spain said as he reached into the silverware drawer. He took out two forks and spoons. He also grabbed the long loaf of crusty bread and brought it to the table as well. Sitting across from his beloved Pequeño Tomate, he watched as Romano put the spaghetti on a plate for the two of them. “Hey!” he said, sullenly handing it to him, before getting up and going to get the cheese grater and a hunk of pecorino Romano cheese.
They sat the table, the two of them silently giving thanks to God. While Spain finished his prayers, Romano grated some cheese his spaghetti. He snorted loudly like he did every time Spain thanked God for his beloved “Pequeño Tomate.” Even though Spain had done it for as long as Romano knew him, it never failed to annoy him while it warmed his heart. Prickly by nature as he never felt worthy of anyone’s love, he never understood Spain’s attraction to him. Everyone adored his brother, and yet, the older country never gave him more than a passing glance and was polite to him simply because Italy was his brother.
Picking up his fork in one hand, the spoon in the other, Romano twirled the spaghetti onto his fork. “What are you staring at?” he asked, before shoving the fork in his mouth. He ate the mouthful, promptly ignoring the Spaniard, who was grinning like a fool. Stupid Tomato-bastard.
“You,” Spain said flippantly as he poured them each a glass of wine.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Nothing, mi Pequeño Tomate. Now eat your food, before it gets cold.”
“Asshole…” Romano muttered under his breath as he twirled more spaghetti onto his fork. He shoved into his mouth, angrily chewing, and swallowing. He reached for his glass of wine and drank.
Spain smiled. “Te quiero demasiado, Romano,” he said softly.
Romano made a little sound of disgust. I know… and I love you too, Spain… though we both know I’d rather die than tell you that…
They ate in companionable silence, Romano steadfastly refusing to meet Spain’s smoldering glances, much to the older country’s amusement. Once Romano cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, they would both head to the back bedroom for a peaceful siesta, or not, if Spain had his way. Reaching for the bottle of wine, he poured more into Romano’s glass.
Romano, of course, glared at him.”Keep filling it up, Tomato-bastard, and I swear I’ll go to sleep on you.”
Spain laughed. “See if I care, I’ll just have my way with you while you’re asleep, it’s no big deal.” He shrugged, and reaching for his own wine glass, he picked it up and sipped his wine.
“Chigi!” he swore. “You sound like that stupid pervert-bastard France!”
“There’s a reason why he’s my good friend.”
“Don’t remind me, asshole!” Romano picked up his wine glass and gulped a large mouthful down. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he glared at him. He knew where this was heading and as much as he had grown to love Spain in all the years they had spent together, he could not resist playing extremely hard to get just like he had the first time they had met. Part of that was because his insecurities made him aloof as a way of protecting his fragile ego, the other part was he was sure that when he finally died as a nation, he was going straight to hell. Their countries were both Catholic nations now and had been for centuries, long enough for their beliefs to become deeply ingrained in Romano. He knew damned well that the church frowned on two men being intimate with each other, even though Spain insisted such prohibitions did not apply to them. He could not help feeling like that anymore than his brother could help being excessively happy.
Spain sighed softly; Romano was at it again, his disgust with himself clearly seen on his face and the way he got up from the table to bang around the kitchen while he cleaned up. He sipped his wine, having learned long ago that it was no use trying to persuade his beloved little Tomato think otherwise. This was their dance of love and it was every bit as passionate as a tango and just as fiery. So he simply sat back and let Romano work himself up, and when his beloved was ready, they would go to the back bedroom for a siesta that had very little to do with sleep and everything to do with desire.
Romano put the big pasta pot away. He turned and looked over to see Spain, leaning back in his chair and snoring softly. He was half tempted to wake him, but he figured if the asshole was drunk enough to fall asleep on him then he could stay there and rot for all he cared. Muttering angrily to himself in Italian, Romano left the kitchen. He hurried down the hall to the back bedroom. It was one of the coolest places during the summer in his villa, being shaded by a large tree that grew just outside the window. Entering the room, he slammed the door behind him with a self-satisfied bang. That’ll teach that bastard to go to sleep on me! he thought angrily. Romano strode over the chair and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. When it was open, he rolled down the sleeves, before shrugging out of it. After draping it over the back of the chair, he unbuckled his belt, undoing the button on his pants, and pulling down the zipper. He pushed down past his hips, stepping out of them, to shake them out. They joined his shirt and the rest of his clothes soon followed.
Romano stretched, and taking a minute to enjoy the delicious coolness of the semi dark room, he padded over to the bed. Throwing back the sheet, he crawled inside, and covered himself. Rolling onto his side, he dozed lightly, the heat of the day and the heavy pasta meal left him feeling very sleepy.
Spain, who was only pretending to be asleep, counted slowly in his head, Uno, dos, tres, cuarto, cinco… ocho, nueve, diez… Time to go find mi Pequeño Tomate… He leaned forward, and pushing back from the table, he stood. Chuckling softly to himself, he turned and left the kitchen, heading straight for the back bedroom. If he had timed it right, his beloved Tomato would be dozing, making it easy for him to sneak into the room, get undressed, and crawl into bed with him. Just to give himself a few extra minutes, Spain slowed his pace down to a stroll. It was hard as he longed to join Romano in bed, but it beat being pelted with pillows and anything else his little Tomato could get his hands on.
When he finally reached the room, Spain opened the door as quietly as he could, slipping inside. He closed it behind him even though they were the only ones in Romano’s house. Letting his eyes adjust to the dark, he stood there; thinking his Pequeño Tomate, as he slowly came into view in the cool dark interior, looked like an angel while he dozed peacefully in bed. It reminded him of when his fellow country was younger and how he would put him to bed, only to wake up with him in the morning, Romano loudly exclaiming he was only there because he was cold.
Spain walked over to the chair where Romano had laid out his clothes and began to undress. He was folding his pants when he heard, “If you’re going to join me you stupid Tomato-bastard, you’d better hurry up and get your ass over here!” Spain chuckled. “I’m coming, Romano.” He quickly got out of the rest of his clothes, leaving them there on the floor where they fell, and padded over to the bed. He got into it, the sheets cool against his bare skin. Rolling over, Spain spooned in behind Romano.
“Go away, asshole! It’s too hot for you to be this close!” Romano fussed as he reached behind himself to try and get Spain to move.
Spain answered with a kiss to his beloved’s shoulder. “Mi amado…” he murmured softly, kissing him again. “Mi corazón… mi amor…”
“You’re such an asshole…” Romano said softly.
Spain chuckled. “Te quiero demasiado, Romano,” he replied.
“I know…”
“Look what you do to me, Romano,” Spain said huskily, rubbing his growing hardness against his backside. “I want you…”
Romano made a little sound of disgust. “Pervert-bastard!” he swore, “It’s too hot to fuck!”
“It’s never too hot to make love, mi Pequeño Tomate…” Spain kissed his beloved’s shoulder again. He reached around Romano, pulling him close in a one armed embrace.
“Fuck off!” Romano said more out of habit than anything else. He wanted it as much as Spain did and his seeming reluctance was just part of their dance.
“Let me pleasure you, Romano mi amado.” Spain let his hand wander, his fingers ghosting along Romano’s body.
“No…” He squirmed, pushing himself against Spain’s cock.
“Please?” When Romano did not reply, Spain rolled him onto his back. He moved on top of him, swallowing his beloved’s protests in a kiss.
Romano moaned softly, and wrapping his arms around Spain, he deepened the kiss. He was just as hard as Spain, the little waves of pleasure he felt from his fellow country’s touch, pooling deep within his cock. Spain was running his fingers through Romano’s hair and he moaned loudly when he tugged on his curl. “Damn it…” he breathed, “I’m going to cum…”
“Not so fast, my beloved little Tomato,” Spain said. He trailed a line whisper soft kisses across Romano’s jaw and down his neck. He licked and sucked his beloved’s collar bone, leaving several small love bites in his wake. Spain moved slowly down his body, enjoying the faint salty taste of skin and the scent that was uniquely Romano. He chuckled softly, when he paused to lick his beloved’s navel and Romano moaned as he pushed his head lower down towards his throbbing cock.
By the time Spain decided to suck him off, Romano was a moaning, writhing mass of pure pleasure. Fisting the sheets, he muttered his prayers in the old Latin, begging God’s forgiveness while pausing every so often to moan Spain’s name. That sweet delicious mouth, that skillful tongue, those fingers that gently gripped him… Romano felt himself rushing headlong towards his release.
His head bobbing up and down, Spain could tell by the taste it would not be long before Romano came. As if on cue, Romano spewed his hot, bitter essence in his mouth as Spain tongued the sensitive area just under the head of his cock. Sucking him dry, Spain pulled back with a loud slurp and swallowed. He sat back on his heels, spitting a mixture of saliva and spent fluids onto to his fingers, lubing himself and Romano up. As he kissed Romano, he thrust inside. The sex was fast and furious, but Spain needed it that way, after taking his time to pleasure his beloved. It was always like that, Romano’s pleasure coming before his own, telling himself it was because of the summer heat or the wintery cold, any number of little excuses for doing it quickly. It was simply because he loved Romano so much that his pleasure was also Spain’s.
Pulling out of him, Spain tenderly kissed Romano. “My beloved Tomato…”
Romano snorted. “My fucking asshole,” he deadpanned.
Spain laughed as he rolled off of him to lie at Romano’s side.
“Go hurry and clean up.”
“Yes, sir!” Spain said as he got up to do as he was bidden. When he was finished, he padded back to bed and Romano snuggled up next to him, complaining loudly that he too hot and sweaty to lie with, yet making no move to move away. Lacing his fingers with Romano’s, Spain brought their hands to his mouth, kissing his beloved’s fingers. “Te quiero, mi amor…” he said softly.
“I know… Now let’s go to sleep.” I love you too… but you already know that… Romano closed his eyes as he rested his head on Spain’s chest. He drifted off wrapped in Spain’s arms, listening to the sound of the other’s heartbeat…
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Date: 2012-08-14 08:08 pm (UTC)I love that.
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Date: 2012-08-14 08:10 pm (UTC)(*whispers* I started your fic. ;D)
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Date: 2012-08-14 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-14 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-14 10:32 pm (UTC)Just one thing: it's pequeño tomate, not poco de tomate *has seen this same mistake way too many times* Also all those te amo should be te quiero instead (no, there's no difference, but you won't hear anyone saying te amo in Spain), like the one at the end :3 But it doesn't matter that much, so~ I guess it doesn't hurt to point it out though :P
*will be looking forward to more spamano from you* (*w*)
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Date: 2012-08-14 10:40 pm (UTC)Thank you! That's what I thought, but it's been years since my middle school, so when I looked it up, that's popped up in the translator. ^^; I can easily fix things, so it's no big deal & I'm glad you pointed it out. Thank you again! *huggles*
(Thanks! I definitely want to write more with these two! I had so much fun with this one! :D)
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Date: 2012-08-17 07:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 05:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 12:38 am (UTC)