Just After Noon
"Romano! I'm home!" exclaimed Spain from the doorway. He struggled to close the door behind him, as both his arms were occupied by the two bags of groceries he carried close to his chest. He kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot, all the while juggling the weight of the fresh ingredients.
"It's about time, bastardo," muttered the Italian in the kitchen. "I'm fucking starving."
Spain placed the bags down on the kitchen countertop. He slipped off his coat and hung it neatly over the back of one of the barstools to his left. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed Romano wearing his apron. It was to be expected, of course. No Italian in his right mind would prepare lunch without protecting his Armani shirt from splatters. Although one had to wonder why an Italian would ever wear such a thing in the first place….
"Gilbert called while you were out," mentioned Romano as he sifted through the groceries.
"Oh?"
"He wants to know if you're up for drinks tomorrow."
Spain leaned against the counter. "What day is tomorrow again?" he asked innocently.
"Saturday," stated Romano bluntly.
With some thought, he finally said, "What a shame. I'll be busy. I'll have to call back to decline."
Romano frowned, vexed that Spain hadn't told him anything. Their schedules were tight as they were, what with all the world meetings. "Busy? Busy with what?" he snapped.
Spain grinned, leaning across the countertop surface. He placed a quick kiss on Romano's lips, leaving the Italian stunned for a moment. "With you," was his explanation smugly. Romano rolled his eyes, but was unable to hide his own smirk.
"You're such a sly bastard, you know that?"
"I try," shrugged Spain with a chuckle.
While Romano prepared the ingredients, Spain was busy folding the laundry in the living room. The television was on, but its volume was set to low. If he listened very carefully, he would be able to hear Romano humming some catchy tune as he cooked. It wasn't often, but he relished it. Romano wasn't one to be caught dead singing. He had to be threatened into it, or seriously drunk to get notes out of him.
Warm scents began wafting out of the kitchen on the breath of a humid summer breeze. Spain's stomach growled with impatience. He had finished with the laundry and was now watching a football match on the screen.
"¡Tengo hambre!" he whined languidly. Spain felt like he was melting in the afternoon heat wave.
"Oh, shut up, bastardo. It's already in the oven," Romano shouted back.
Spain got up from the couch and leaned against the doorframe leading to the large kitchen. It was spacious and full of cabinets that contained herbs and spices of all kinds. Romano was at the sink, rinsing out used bowls he had used earlier for mixing ingredients. He was still humming. A grin found its place on the Spaniard's face. Sometimes Romano was just too cute.
"Hey…" he started off slowly, the word rolling off his tongue. Romano turned to catch his eye, but continued his work at the sink.
"What?" the Italian sighed gently.
"I love you."
Romano stopped completely, sighed again, and turned to lean against the sink counter. He raised an eyebrow, studying Spain with pouted lips in thought. "Alright…" he exhaled slowly. "What do you want?" Spain stood up straight and walked over. He placed his hands on either side of Romano's hips, bringing their bodies close. His nose brushed against Romano's cheek, allowing him to pick up his faint scent.
"I love you, Romano."
"I heard you the first time," muttered the Italian country's personification. Spain was too up-close to notice how red Romano's face had become, but he could feel the heat and almost hear his rapid heartbeat.
Spain placed a gentle kiss on Romano's left and then right cheek, then his forehead, over his eyes, his chin, and then his nose. Romano muttered something under his breath, but was too flustered to get an actual word out.
"¿Que?" inquired Spain, beginning to untie Romano's apron.
"If you were horny, all you had to do was tell me, you idiot."
Spain chuckled, tugging the apron off and discarding it onto the floor. He kissed Romano's neck vigorously, inhaling his aftershave. They kissed feverishly as Spain busied himself with the task of unbuttoning Romano's shirt. Romano's own hands were lost in Spain's brown curls, tugging at what he could to entice more exuberant action.
Spain lifted Romano onto the counter, practically ripping away his pants. Romano's shirt was next on the floor until there was nothing but his boxers remaining. He was already hot and swollen, hungry for attention which he would easily obtain. Romano wrapped his arms around Spain's neck, bringing him nice and close. Their lips were warm and wet with their heated breath; soft and rough at the same time as they brushed together.
"Can you…?" whispered Romano, eyes closed. Spain didn't need to hear the end of the sentence. He pulled off his grey t-shirt, and practically threw the offending material to the floor. Romano could feel Spain's fervor at the tip of his fingertips as he traced patterns across the Spaniard's chest. Faint scars could still be seen from wars past, but they hardly mattered. Hell, they were even sexy. Spain lifted the Italian, carrying him to the bedroom, all the while darting his tongue across Romano's palate.
Spain lowered Romano slowly, rolling his hips against him as they both made contact with the mattress. Romano let out a groan, his face red with anticipation. "Spain," he gasped between kisses. Spain lowered himself slightly, finding his way to a needy nipple. His tongue teased and his mouth sucked. Romano's breath hitched. His mind was unable to register the delight and pleasure in completion.
"Spagne," the Italian whined, "Spagne, per favore."
Spain grinned against Romano's bare chest. "Who's horny now?" he challenged. A pillow in the face was his reward.
"Shut up, fucking bastard," muttered Romano with a slight edge of humour.
"I'm just saying," he said with a shrug. Spain removed Romano's boxers, kissing at the tender skin on the inside of his thighs. There was nothing more fulfilling to know how badly they wanted each other and Romano's exposed member only added to that satisfaction.
"Hurry up, asshole. The pasta's going to burn."
"Si, si… Yo comprendo."
Once his own boxers were removed, Spain took only a moment to take in the sight. Romano was so cute he could die. The Italian was blushing from ear to ear, chest heaving up and down for air. Spain took no time at all to align himself and gently push in. They had made love just the day before, so preparation hardly seemed needed, especially not now. They were too hot to wait any longer.
"Nng…" gasped Romano, eyes shut. He could feel Spain throbbing for him.
"You ok?"
"Yes… Just do it, idiot."
Spain placed a kiss on Romano's lips as he rolled forward again, pushing deeper into the warmth that surrounded his length. He sighed against Romano's face, relieved and excited by the pressure. He drew back, almost to the point where he removed himself, and then shoved right back in. "Ah!" groaned Romano, clinging to Spain's back. Spain thrust in and out, developing a rhythm all too delicious to stop. The delirium overtook the two, their heads swirling with ecstasy.
"F-fuck! Spain~! Oh~! Si!"
"Romano…" groaned Spain against the Italian's ear. "Romano~"
Romano stroked the sides of Spain's face, noticing traces of his stubble. Those beautiful green eyes like emeralds distracted him, but only for a moment. He felt warm inside, almost bordering on boiling. Those eyes, which watched him with such attention and dedication, were all he needed to know and feel secure.
"Ti amo," he mumbled through the dizziness that was his climax.
The clock on the oven back in the kitchen read just after noon.
A/N:
*Pokes head out of darkened corner...*
Hi everyone. I felt so guilty about not updating for the past two months, so I figured I should hurry and give you the gift of smut. I haven't been feeling well, and my computer crapped out on me, so I had to deal with all the mayhem. I really do hope you enjoy it! Please remember to leave a review. They make me happy. 3
Lots of love,
K
