vamonos a la discoteca!
anonymous
April 2 2009, 07:10:57 UTC
Spain takes France out clubbing because that's what Spanish people do.
Francis, being Francis, starts hitting on Antonio. The latter is completely oblivious to it as usual because to him, it's nothing more than brotherly affection, so France doesn't mind it all that much.
But then other people in the club start hitting on Antonio too, and surprisingly, Antonio responds to these other flirtations.
Cue insulted!jealous!France (because what do these people have that he doesn't?), and things become increasingly touchy-feely (err, gropey?) until they culminate to France kissing Spain point-blank to prove a point.
And it all ends in public/semi-public!wall!sex in a corner of the club.
Rumba - Part One
anonymous
July 12 2009, 13:32:24 UTC
Anon is new to Hetalia. Anon is sorry if she farks something up royally. I guess this is like In-Love-With-Spain-But-Kind-Of-In-Denial-About-it!France. Which makes me kind of sad for him. Anyway. This, uhm, got kind of long and doesn't quite match your request? Sorry. Anon hopes you enjoy.
“La rumba no para asta que el sol sale.” Spain claims that the people of his country really know how to party. That France could learn a thing or two from a night out with him. When Spain shows up in leather pants at his front door, hair still wet from the shower, who the hell is France to say no to him?
La ‘rumba’ as it turns out, is almost like a marathon of endurance. Spain has streets filled with nightclubs, and it’s customary to start at out at one nightclub one hour, and then hop over into the next one, progressively moving down the street. The drinks go down faster, and the music goes up louder and they’re at the fourth discoteca of the night when France’s considerable goodwill begins to run low
( ... )
Rumba - Part Two
anonymous
July 12 2009, 13:41:39 UTC
But France reminds himself to have the patience of Joan of Arc. Spain's obliviousness is double-edged. If France can't get him into bed, no one can.
So he goes and fetches the drinks, using more hand signals than anything because no one speaks French in the middle of Barcelona, and it's not like they can hear him anyway over the speakers pouring a crashing waterfall of noise all across the dance floor.
He gets beer, and a bottle of whiskey, and returns to where he left Spain.
But Spain is no longer there. Neither are the girls. Or the guy.
Suspicion unfurls. He examines the shadowy corners but sees no hint of Spain. Then he happens to glance over the writing mass of limbs that is the dance floor and catches sight of Spain.
The two beer bottles crash against the floor. The discordant break is inaudible under the music. The whiskey bottle saves itself only because he has such a tight grip on it that the neck threatens to break as France watches Spain -- his Spain, damn it -- laugh as that guy gropes his ass in the excuse of dancing
( ... )
Rumba - Part Three
anonymous
July 12 2009, 13:54:06 UTC
(Can a mod delete the other 'Part 3'? Anon fails at multi-tasking during work.)Aggressive, hungry lips follow the track, and France nips Spain's throat. With his hands free he pulls and rubs and strokes everywhere until Spain is arching against him in want, panting, and Spain's fingers suddenly sink into his hair, fingertips rubbing against his scalp and France shudders with excitement. Is it rape? Is it consensual? The line is blurred, and France's fingers have found Spain's nipples and are twisting them, sharp pain follow by his mouth on them, soothing kisses followed by long sucks as France memorizes every texture, every taste, every spot that makes Spain squirm
( ... )
Rumba - Part Four (End)
anonymous
July 12 2009, 13:55:38 UTC
He presses their foreheads together as his finger slowly sinks into Spain. The heat is so amazing tight that he wants to take Spain right there, against the wall, but he doesn’t want pain to be what Spain remembers from their first time together, doesn’t want Spain to cringe away from his touch. The thought makes him faintly nauseated. So he stops using a hand to lean against the wall and wraps it around Spain’s erection. “Your leg.” France flicks his tongue against Spain’s jaw. “Wrap it around me.”
“Are you going to--?” Spain hooks a leg around France’s hip, tossing his head back against the wall as France adds a second finger down to the second knuckle, and begins thrusting. “Dios mio. Francia--”“No.” France thrusts harder, varying angle in search of that bundle of nerves, both fingers fully in now. “I’m not going to fuck you in public.” He kisses Spain’s cheek and Spain catches his mouth in a panting kiss, lips meeting again and again in between gasping breaths. Doesn’t bother to elaborate that he’s not being considerate regarding
( ... )
WHEN I SAW THIS, I HONEST TO GOD SCREAMED, I WAS SO HAPPY. THREE AND HALF MONTHS OF WAITING, BUT OH IT WAS SO WORTH IT.
ANON, ANON, I LOVE YOU. LET'S GET MARRIED AND MAKE BEAUTIFUL BABIES TOGETHER.
Spain is my unadulterated favorite, but this, this made me love France.
Christ.
And it's totally okay that you didn't follow the prompt to the end, you added so much more depth to my prompt than I could have possibly asked for.
Between all the little references to Spanish culture (the salute to Catholicism had me hook, line, and sinker) and the ridiculously hot sex, this is probably my favorite fill ever in this kink meme.
Thank you so much for this fill anon, it was everything I wanted and more.
Hahah, I'm flailing with embarrassment. I wasn't too confident about the fic, but I'm very happy that I made you and the other readers happy. :) I love, love Spain. with France. ♥ So I'm definitely going to try to do more fills for him ~ uhm. You'll probably be able to tell which ones are mine, lawl.
Francis, being Francis, starts hitting on Antonio. The latter is completely oblivious to it as usual because to him, it's nothing more than brotherly affection, so France doesn't mind it all that much.
But then other people in the club start hitting on Antonio too, and surprisingly, Antonio responds to these other flirtations.
Cue insulted!jealous!France (because what do these people have that he doesn't?), and things become increasingly touchy-feely (err, gropey?) until they culminate to France kissing Spain point-blank to prove a point.
And it all ends in public/semi-public!wall!sex in a corner of the club.
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“La rumba no para asta que el sol sale.” Spain claims that the people of his country really know how to party. That France could learn a thing or two from a night out with him. When Spain shows up in leather pants at his front door, hair still wet from the shower, who the hell is France to say no to him?
La ‘rumba’ as it turns out, is almost like a marathon of endurance. Spain has streets filled with nightclubs, and it’s customary to start at out at one nightclub one hour, and then hop over into the next one, progressively moving down the street. The drinks go down faster, and the music goes up louder and they’re at the fourth discoteca of the night when France’s considerable goodwill begins to run low ( ... )
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So he goes and fetches the drinks, using more hand signals than anything because no one speaks French in the middle of Barcelona, and it's not like they can hear him anyway over the speakers pouring a crashing waterfall of noise all across the dance floor.
He gets beer, and a bottle of whiskey, and returns to where he left Spain.
But Spain is no longer there. Neither are the girls. Or the guy.
Suspicion unfurls. He examines the shadowy corners but sees no hint of Spain. Then he happens to glance over the writing mass of limbs that is the dance floor and catches sight of Spain.
The two beer bottles crash against the floor. The discordant break is inaudible under the music. The whiskey bottle saves itself only because he has such a tight grip on it that the neck threatens to break as France watches Spain -- his Spain, damn it -- laugh as that guy gropes his ass in the excuse of dancing ( ... )
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“Are you going to--?” Spain hooks a leg around France’s hip, tossing his head back against the wall as France adds a second finger down to the second knuckle, and begins thrusting. “Dios mio. Francia--”“No.” France thrusts harder, varying angle in search of that bundle of nerves, both fingers fully in now. “I’m not going to fuck you in public.” He kisses Spain’s cheek and Spain catches his mouth in a panting kiss, lips meeting again and again in between gasping breaths. Doesn’t bother to elaborate that he’s not being considerate regarding ( ... )
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YES.
CLUBBING.
Also, this was just fantastic. And HOT. VERY VERY HOT. I LOVE the way you write these two! Wonderful, wonderful work!
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OH MY GOD, ANON.
i came.
oh i came.
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WHEN I SAW THIS, I HONEST TO GOD SCREAMED, I WAS SO HAPPY. THREE AND HALF MONTHS OF WAITING, BUT OH IT WAS SO WORTH IT.
ANON, ANON, I LOVE YOU. LET'S GET MARRIED AND MAKE BEAUTIFUL BABIES TOGETHER.
Spain is my unadulterated favorite, but this, this made me love France.
Christ.
And it's totally okay that you didn't follow the prompt to the end, you added so much more depth to my prompt than I could have possibly asked for.
Between all the little references to Spanish culture (the salute to Catholicism had me hook, line, and sinker) and the ridiculously hot sex, this is probably my favorite fill ever in this kink meme.
Thank you so much for this fill anon, it was everything I wanted and more.
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shit.
nothing will ever measure up to this fic's hotness. nothing. ever. oh god i think my brain exploded when i came you are amazing♥
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There are not. The words in the entire ENGLISH LANGUAGE (or French or Spanish languages) to describe how INSANELY SEXY this is. shdkjlhejgfdfs.
Anon. Please have my SOUL. This is HOT and GORGEOUS and I WANT MORE.
*______________*
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ANON, YOU ARE AMAZING
i've just been waiting for this to be filled and holy crap.
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I came.
The only thing that would've made it hotter was if they rumba-ed before/after all this, because anon has tried the dance and it is one SEXY dance~
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Why did you have to go and combine all my kinks.
Now I'm gonna fap forever, even though its 4:30 am.
fffffffff.
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