Smooth lips were pressed to the slightly agape pair, a nose bumping a nose and a kiss being given. The older nation pulled back as quickly as he swooped in, and was pleasantly rewarded with the awestruck look on Romano's face. The sponge he had been holding had even fallen to the tiled floor. He was so cute... he had to lean in and kiss him again. And again. And again...
He had not realized when Romano had started to return his pecks. All of a sudden lips were lingering longer and longer until the fine line between a peck and a liplock was crossed. Slightly smaller hands than his own, still damp from washing, crawled up the flesh of his neck and cupped both his cheeks. Romano was kissing with more feeling, his own eyes fluttered closed and his cheeks were faintly tinted with most mild shade of rose.
Those welcomed hands did not stay in one place for long: they slipped away from Spain's face and relocated to his chest. They pushed him against the counter, push, push, push until Spain caught on and moved up to sit on the marble surface, all the while keeping their mouths connected. A heavy breath puffed against Spain's mouth before Romano broke away. The breath still had the sweet fragrance of wine.
Romano leaned up, standing on the very tiptoes of his boots as his mouth started attacking the other's face. Kisses were peppered up and down his cheeks, along his forehead, chin, and nose. Fingers tangled in the cocoa locks, tugging and pulling the Spaniard's head along to move along with his gentle kisses.
Spain's voice was husky, letting murmurs of his own native tongue slip past his smiling lips. "Eres cariñoso y tan precioso. Romano, te amo. Te amo mucho. Ay dios mio, te amo tan mucho." His hands rubbed along the expanse of Romano's thin back, bringing him closer to his body, as close as he possibly could be as the lips he loved so much traveled down his neck and lavished the sensitive skin with a whole new array of kisses. "Romano... mi amor... voy a hacerte el amor."
At this, the Italian stopped his kisses and pressed his face into the Spaniard's neck. From how hot the flesh was, he was definitely blushing. "Chiudi il culo."
Spain grinned. "Mentí. Eres muy grosero."
Romano snarled, whispering, "...zitto..." on the older's lips before he pushed into him for a rough kiss. Spain didn't mind. Lips, teeth, and tongues moved in a heated frenzy as the kiss progress, deepening and becoming more intense as time passed. Romano was desperately trying to get closer, and the only way that was going to happen was by climbing onto the counter with that idiot, Spain. Deciding to try that out, he only managed to scramble a bit upwards before a crystal wine glass knocked off and smashed into a several glittering fragments on the floor.
"¡Uy!" A small playful laugh from Spain vibrated against Romano's lips, which in turn earned the other a bite to his lower lip and the separation of their mouths. No matter how tough the Italian acted, he knew he was fragile. For someone prone to embarrassment and emotion, he usually hid it very well with his attitude, but in times of passion, the wall he built around his heart would crumble just enough to see what was beyond. In his eyes, Spain could see he was upset and ashamed. Romano would never ask for any form of condolences, and they both knew it.
Cradling the younger's head to his collarbone, Spain rubbed his nose into his hair. "It's okay... don't worry about it. Quiero ir al cuarto de todos modos."
For Him (2)
He had not realized when Romano had started to return his pecks. All of a sudden lips were lingering longer and longer until the fine line between a peck and a liplock was crossed. Slightly smaller hands than his own, still damp from washing, crawled up the flesh of his neck and cupped both his cheeks. Romano was kissing with more feeling, his own eyes fluttered closed and his cheeks were faintly tinted with most mild shade of rose.
Those welcomed hands did not stay in one place for long: they slipped away from Spain's face and relocated to his chest. They pushed him against the counter, push, push, push until Spain caught on and moved up to sit on the marble surface, all the while keeping their mouths connected. A heavy breath puffed against Spain's mouth before Romano broke away. The breath still had the sweet fragrance of wine.
Romano leaned up, standing on the very tiptoes of his boots as his mouth started attacking the other's face. Kisses were peppered up and down his cheeks, along his forehead, chin, and nose. Fingers tangled in the cocoa locks, tugging and pulling the Spaniard's head along to move along with his gentle kisses.
Spain's voice was husky, letting murmurs of his own native tongue slip past his smiling lips. "Eres cariñoso y tan precioso. Romano, te amo. Te amo mucho. Ay dios mio, te amo tan mucho." His hands rubbed along the expanse of Romano's thin back, bringing him closer to his body, as close as he possibly could be as the lips he loved so much traveled down his neck and lavished the sensitive skin with a whole new array of kisses. "Romano... mi amor... voy a hacerte el amor."
At this, the Italian stopped his kisses and pressed his face into the Spaniard's neck. From how hot the flesh was, he was definitely blushing. "Chiudi il culo."
Spain grinned. "Mentí. Eres muy grosero."
Romano snarled, whispering, "...zitto..." on the older's lips before he pushed into him for a rough kiss. Spain didn't mind. Lips, teeth, and tongues moved in a heated frenzy as the kiss progress, deepening and becoming more intense as time passed. Romano was desperately trying to get closer, and the only way that was going to happen was by climbing onto the counter with that idiot, Spain. Deciding to try that out, he only managed to scramble a bit upwards before a crystal wine glass knocked off and smashed into a several glittering fragments on the floor.
"¡Uy!" A small playful laugh from Spain vibrated against Romano's lips, which in turn earned the other a bite to his lower lip and the separation of their mouths. No matter how tough the Italian acted, he knew he was fragile. For someone prone to embarrassment and emotion, he usually hid it very well with his attitude, but in times of passion, the wall he built around his heart would crumble just enough to see what was beyond. In his eyes, Spain could see he was upset and ashamed. Romano would never ask for any form of condolences, and they both knew it.
Cradling the younger's head to his collarbone, Spain rubbed his nose into his hair. "It's okay... don't worry about it. Quiero ir al cuarto de todos modos."