(no subject)
Conquistador
Pairing/Characters: Spain/Romano
Rating: NC-17
Prompt:
Summary: Lovino gets a feel for how Antonio used to act.
A/N: Humming and hawing over this, and my pitiful attempts to navigate LJ... Help? *tear*
I
Lovino noticed something was wrong the second Antonio walked into the room, his head turned downcast and an eerie smirk set on his lips. Not only was the older nations disposition completely off but he was dressed in his old conquistador outfit, the wide brim of the gray hat shadowing his eyes and the red feather flaring out behind him, his matching overcoat flaring out slightly with his strides, light bouncing off the shining gold buttons. The long green tie around his neck fluttered as the Spaniard approached, knee length leather boots thumping in the otherwise silent room. Lovino hesitantly took a step back, hands clenching around the fabric of his pants as his natural (cowardly) instincts nagged at him.
“Ah, h-hey, Tomato Bastard, what's wrong with you?” he demanded, voice coming out weaker than he would have liked. The Spanish man paused, almost giving Lovino a reason to sag from the relief, eyes remaining shadowed, before he struck, faster than Lovino would have thought possible for the usually lazy man. “What the fuck?!”
Lovino's back cracked painfully against the wall and when he glanced up the Italian found himself staring into dark, gleaming green eyes, the hat lying on the floor from the abrupt movement. He didn't have time to snap fully from the consequential daze the sharp smack to the wall had caused before Antonio descended on him, lips harshly stealing a kiss, teeth biting hard enough to draw blood when Lovino didn't react fast enough.
“Antonio!” A large, strong hand wrapped around his neck and cut off any other protest, drawing him closer to the bigger body.
“No.” The normally happy-go-lucky, optimistic voice was low and dark, a dominating growl that had Lovino's mouth snapping shut and tremors shivering through his body. “You are mine.”
Antonio released his bruising grip, moving to his waist and carelessly picking him up, tossing him over a broad, crimson coated shoulder. Lovino felt indignant about the position but took a deep breath and chewed on the uninjured side of his lip to keep himself quiet and spare further wounds. His silence didn't save him from a painful grope as Antonio threw him down on the bed, free hand deftly tugging on the emerald ribbon and wrapping it around Lovino's wrists, securing them to the headboard.
That hole hadn't been there before.
Lovino growled and tried to kick, jerking his arms in an attempt to loosen the knot. Antonio's eyes narrowed and Lovino felt a sharp pain in his cheek before he registered that Spain had backhanded him. The younger nation whimpered, drawing a shaky breath and staring at his mentor with wide, watery eyes, gasping through the pain. A small trickle of blood rolled down his chin from a cut inside his mouth and green eyes tracked it, enthralled by its path. A wide finger wiped it away, the slow actions giving the pretense of being gentle as the hand was brought up to the foreign face and it was licked off.
He didn't want to admit that it was arousing to see someone, Antonio specifically, enjoying it so thoroughly.
Lovino whimpered when the Spaniard's hand wandered down to his waist, unsheathing the sword that was secured there, removing the case and tossing it aside, sliding the blade under the Italian's shirt and cutting it off. The white fabric slid down either side of his torso, exposing his mildly tanned upper body, the red flush that had been overtaking his face creeping down his chest and stomach as well. Antonio grinned, more twisted than usual, and leaned down, his sword clattering onto the ground as he busied himself with placing rough bites everywhere he could reach. His teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh around one of Lovino's nipples, drawing a strangled scream along with the blood.
“Mine,” Antonio repeated, snarling and tracing Lovino's throat, leaning up and lapping at it, listening to the gasps of the smaller man and feeling the thin chest heave as he pressed his entire weight into it, grinding his erection on the other brunette's. Lovino groaned, unable to stop his hips from bucking up and his legs from bending up, holding Antonio's thicker body where it was. His head tilted back, exposing his neck to the Spaniard's quested teeth, wincing as they pierced the skin again and again, mostly small pinpricks until he got bored with that and nearly took a chunk of flesh out. Lovino winced and snapped back, grabbing the tip of Antonio's ear in his mouth, clenching his jaw.
He received a bruising grip on his hips and a particularly strong thrust in retaliation.
Lovino was forced to release his grip when Antonio, his fingernails digging into his skin and breaking it, flipped him onto his knees, wrists twisting and crossing uncomfortably. He whined softly at the position but stopped immediately when the Conquistador pushed him further forward and his arms folded unnaturally against his chest, face pressed to the wooden headboard. The cool metal of the discarded blade returned, this time trace the skin of his hips, just below the waist line, and slicing off his pants. They were tore away and tossed side, along with the gathered remains of his shirt, and then he was naked and exposed absolutely, no protection anywhere. Lovino wiggled then decided that was a bad idea when Antonio's hand came down on his rear, leaving an angry hand print and rising welt.
“Don't move,” the Spaniard commanded, pressing his thumbs against the bruising skin, further darkening it. Lovino bit back a protest, shifting his head just enough that Antonio wouldn't notice it when his neck began to cramp. “Scream.”
Spitefully he bit his lip, stifling any noises Antonio might want him to make.
Annoyed with the lack of compliance he was receiving Antonio dragged blunt nails down the tender flesh of his side, lifting and dropping with his ribs and leaving bright marks, some spots broken enough to admit a few drops of blood. Still refusing to co-operate Lovino bit his lip, glaring at the brown wood and making a show of freeing his arms from their constricting, crunched position. His only warning of Antonio's actions was a low growl before large hands gripped his hips and jerked him back, grinding his erection against Lovino's ass. The fabric rubbed against his skin, making the friction less painful in the face of Antonio's powerful thrusts. Lovino's eyes rolled back and his upper body dropped, cheek pressing in the white sheets, small gasps escaping without his consent.
Antonio grinned, pulling away just enough to unlace his pants and pull out his member, passing his fingers over the sensitized skin just enough to make him crave the embrace of Lovino's body. He slid closer, ignorant of the discomfort the tight leather boots created in his legs and feet, the hot prickling only adding to his arousal, and used one hand to support the boys flank, cupped over the left cheek, and the other slid across his thighs and griped the smaller mans genitalia, squeezing and jerking his hand. Unbidden a strangled cry escaped, his head tilting back and full body shivers working through his body.
“Scream for me,” Antonio growled into Lovino's ear, eying the bobbing curl and leaning forward, lips, teeth, and tongue toying with it and tearing a loud shriek from the Italian's throat. The Spaniard hummed and grinned, resuming his rocking motions, cock rubbing against Lovino's ass, pre-cum acted as lubrication, minimal as it was. Lovino wailed, thrashing and disregarding Antonio's ever tightening grip, struggling for more of the painful pleasure.
Through the haze Lovino thought that he was perhaps a little bit masochistic.
Antonio's hips snapped forward, impaling the other. Lovino yelled, voice pitching high near the end, skin tearing around the organ and making the ceaseless cycle of penetration smoother. The Spaniard moan, low and guttural, his thighs cradling Lovino's posterior, the sound of skin slapping against skin, harsh panting, and a cacophony of yelps and groans, whimpers and mewls reverberating through the room. Antonio forced Lovino's head back, curl remaining trapped and making the Italian's spine bend so he could propel his pace, penis jabbing roughly at Lovino's prostate. Blood rolled down Lovino's legs, soaking the sheets the same from the numerous wounds inflicted before.
Lovino's toes curled and long, strangled gasp heralded the arrival of his climax, flesh clamping around Antonio's cock, spurring him to accelerate his tempo, aching to reach the same point as his lover. Finally, minutes after Lovino, he came, releasing into the pliant body, riding it out with as many additional thrusts as possible. They both lay still, Antonio leaning on the smaller man and supporting him simultaneously, forehead pushed against the lightly tanned shoulder, curl still held in his mouth. He freed it, watching with jaded green eyes as it drooped, not losing its form completely but not as bouncy as it formerly was.
Once more collected Antonio sat back on his haunches, dragging the limp, trembling body with him, holding it against him as he slid one arm out of the dark crimson jacket, then the other, throwing it onto the floor, followed by his shirt. With an abundance of difficult maneuvering the boots and pants joined them and he lowered them back down, tracing the contusions his fingertips left on the delicate tanned skin of Lovino's hips, pushing harder than necessary against them, drawing an exhausted huff from the younger nation.
“Sadist,” he grumbled, purposely squeezing his thighs and rear around the leg and flaccid member that had never been pulled out.
“Masochist,” Antonio muttered back, a dark chuckle escaping him, arousal once more attacking him. Lovino groaned at the feeling, allowing the Spaniard to rearrange them for another go. He looked down from his position (straddling the broader man, hands on his chest and legs splayed), and pouted at the uncharacteristic smirk.
“I'll get you back for this tomato bastard.”
II
Uber!Fail. That's all I have to say...