Romano let himself into Spain's house and threw his suitcase on the couch.
"Where are you bastard?" He asked without much anger. This last meeting with the international monetary fund had left him drained.
He peeked into the kitchen and found only an untouched pot with lukewarm pasta on the stove.
He went upstairs to Spain's bedroom, and found him asleep in his messy bed, with the windows open to the cooling air of the evening and wearing only his old red boxers and an open shirt.
"Idiot, you'll catch a cold," he muttered as he closed the windows.
On the bed, Spain stirred and mumbled Romano's name.
"Yeah, it's me," said Romano, and sat on the side of the bed. "How many fucking siestas do you take?"
Spain gave him a lazy grin and shifted to lie on his side. His soft curls reflected the light of the setting sun.
"I was waiting for you," he said almost in a whisper, and patted the side of the bed next to him. "Come here. You look tired."
Romano gritted his teeth for a second, about to give a hurtful reply, but instead he just sighed, and pulled off his tie.
"I am. Too many damned meetings all the time," he said as he took off his shoes and settled next to Spain.
He hadn't taken a siesta with him in a long while. Decades seemed to pass him by faster than before somehow. He remembered Spain being taller, his body more muscly, and his skin a deeper, tantalizing tone. He looked down at the sheets instead.
"It's very tedious," said Spain, smiling with his eyes closed. He let his hand fall on Romano's head and tangled his fingers among his hair. "Rest. We'll wake up later for-" he yawned. "Dinner. I made pasta." He breathed deeply, threw an arm over Romano, and seemed to drift back into sleep just as fast as he had woken up.
"Lazy ass," whispered Romano.
Spain didn't move.
Romano swallowed, suddenly too aware of how strong Spain's cologne was. It seemed to flood his nose with a dark, earthy and woody scent. He noticed the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, and the way that most of his scars from old battles had faded. Most, and yet not enough. He traced the jagged edge of one scar on Spain's side, keeping an eye on his face in case he would wake up.
But Spain didn't seem to notice his wandering fingers, still smiling placidly in his sleep.
Romano frowned, noticing how there were laugh lines around Spain's eyes. They seemed to soften his expression in a strange way. The last time Romano had seen his face so close, he was still so big. So strong. And the scent of blood had never seemed to leave him.
Romano inhaled the smell of Spain's skin, trying to find traced of anything else under the smell of the cologne that France had given him. He twirled with one of the buttons of Spain's shirt and made a note to get a cologne from -his- place from him. Something made in the heart of south Italy that could cover his skin.
Romano noticed that Spain's lips had parted slightly, still with that faint smile in them.
He wanted to kiss those lips.
He wanted to kiss them. Hard. To shove his tongue into Spain's mouth and feel him moan. Would he tremble underneath Romano? Or would his smile turn into a smirk?
Romano clenched the sheets, feeling himself grow hard.
This fucking siesta had been a stupid idea. Stupid. Stupid. He gritted his teeth and pulled Spain's arm off him. He would just go to the bathroom for a moment now and be done with it.
But maybe he could try and...kiss Spain? Just a quick peek on the lips. He wouldn't even feel it.
Romano held his breath and pressed his lips to Spain's, feeling how moist and warm they were. Romano's hear jumped, and started racing. He kissed Spain deeper, feeling his mouth open up to him, and he slipped his tongue inside.
Spain trembled, and moaned, making Romano moan too and press against him. Kissing harder.
Spain made a confused noise, and opened his eyes. He pulled away, confused and panting. "Roma?" he asked.
Romano looked down and saw the way Spain's erection tented his boxers. He placed a hand over Spain's chest, feeling his racing heart, and his hot skin, and knew he wanted more.
"Yes," he breathed, and pressed their bodies together, kissing him again.
Spain's hands hovered up above Romano, then grabbed at his shoulders, pushing him away. They parted and Spain gasped.
"R-Roma, I-," he mumbled. Romano pressed their crotches together. He could feel Spain's cock hard and heavy pushing against the thin fabric of his boxers. Romano licked his lips and pulled Spain's boxers down to free his erection. Spain hissed as the cold air touched the sensitive skin of his cock, and Romano smirked down at him. He wanted to devour him.
"Fuck, Spain," he said, biting at his neck. Spain keened, arching against him, his face contorted in pleasure. Romano slid his hands downs Spain's chest, and pulled away to open his pants, his fingers slipping over the buttons in his haste.
Spain licked his lips. "Wait, no. Roma I-," he said, but Romano had already gotten his pants open, and he fell silent as Romano stroked his own cock once, twice, and then grabbed Spain's arousal along with his own.
The feeling of Romano's cock against his own made him whine in pleasure, and Romano needed no more encouragement. He pulled Spain up to ravage his mouth while he stroked them both together.
Spain wrapped his legs around Romano, and his hands held him close by his shoulders so hard it was almost painful. But all thoughts of pain washed off by the sounds of Spain moaning and mewling in pleasure.
Spain's face contorted in pleasure as he orgasmed, and Romano sighed, letting himself climax now that he'd finally seen Spain's face at the height of pleasure.
He fell on the bed next to him, satisfied and with such a fulfilling sense of contentment, he couldn't stop smiling against the sheets. He hid his face, lest Spain saw him. He hated how he looked when he smiled, and he was too happy right now to ruin it like that.
"That...wow," he said against the sheets.
Next to him, Spain was still panting. Unmoving for a moment, until he gasped, and covered himself with the sheets.
"Oh, God. No, no...," he muttered, covering his face.
Romano felt his blood run cold. "W-what?"
"Romano we shouldn't have...I mean, this...isn't right..."
"What?!" Romano pushed himself up. "I thought you liked it!"
Spain leaned away from him, unwilling to look him in the eyes. "I tried to tell you to stop..."
Romano's heart halted. It stopped beating in his chest, ceasing all pretenses to human life and sending a feeling of being crushed from inside. He opened his mouth to say something, but the cold sadness that had frozen his heart had overtaken his mind, leaving him with only the instinct to escape.
He ran.
Stumbled off the bed, and ran out the room. He heard Spain calling after him, but his words made no sense as he ran, bending reality around him to will himself back to Italy. Back to his house, and his room, and his bed; where he fell down with a scream.