Spain hadn't thought he had been that drunk. Comfortably inebriated, yes, but not drunk enough to spill his darkest secret to France. Who had promptly texted this information to Romano. Spain was lucky it hadn't been the whole world, knowing France, but right now he had to go home and likely face a disgusted and disgruntled Romano, hungover nonetheless. This was just not his day.
Opening the door, he was greeted with the sound of the television on in the living room, which meant Romano was laying on the couch, pretending to watch soaps. Before going to face his doom, Spain decided to pity himself and pour another drink. Rum, his old favorite and longtime comforter, turning his glass deep red-gold. Delicious.

"Hey bastard, I know you're home, get your ass in here!" came an angry Italian voice. Spain sighed and headed into the living room.

Then he very nearly dropped his drink on the carpet. Romano stared at him from the couch with half-lidded amber eyes, one gloved hand coming up to thumb away the powdered sugar at his mouth, then a pink tongue peeked out to lick it off. His lean body was naked, chest, stomach, hips...but not his legs. Oh no, those were tightly encased in long, luscious leather boots and propped on the armrest. The perfect image of sex, the plush leather seemed to cup his thighs and mold to his calves, the five inch heels pushing his feet to a point. The red color only taunted the bull, and Spain knocked back his drink in one gulp, trying to erase whatever erotic fantasy he had pasted on Romano. There was no way he was wearing that.

"Ugh, chigi. Honestly Spain, I wait all night for you to drag your sorry butt home, and this is the thanks I get? I've been so unbelievably bored, lying here, eating cannoli." As he spoke, he uncrossed his laced-up legs and slid into a sitting position, knees wide and back arched, one gloved hand coming down to grip the wood of the couch's frame and block Spain's view. This got him an involuntary growl from the tanned man in the doorway, and a dark smirk broke Romano's pillowed, dirtied lips.

"What? Are you going to just stand there, or do something?" teased the lithe nation. He leaned back against the couch, that gloved hand flying behind him to brace against the couch's top. This move revealed him and the glass in Spain's hand shattered, despite his normally nonchalant attitude, Romano had found the one thing to make him pay attention.

Romano who was hard and dripping.
Burning hot.
Slick, prepared, and so obviously needy that Spain nearly fainted from his brain's sudden blood loss.

Spain strode over to stand in front of Romano, who looked up at him with wide eyes. Wide eyes, a virgin's face and a slut's body. Fuck. It was nearly his undoing when Romano pulled his covered knees together, making the leather stretch and slither. The way it covered his milky thighs was unbearably enticing, and Spain wanted to drop to his knees and lick the overlap more than he wanted to take another breath.

"Romano," he warned, voice low and rough. "Where did you get those boots?"

The Italian merely used his free hand to toy with one of the black laces, tugging it gently, and met his eyes with a challenge.

"Why? Does Boss Spain not like them? Because I love them so very much, I loved smoothing them over my legs, up my thighs, tightening the laces slowly so I could get it right. There's something in the leather that gives them a chafe that feels so good and rough."

Spain could feel how tense he was, knew his hands were clenched in fists at his sides to keep from grabbing Romano, bending him across that couch and fucking him senseless then and there. He could practically hear the needy whimpers already.

"Da me un beso." murmured the smaller boy.

Spain snapped like a mastiff tied by twine, diving forward to crush their lips together. He forced through Romano's little defense, pushing his tongue into that hot, sugared mouth. He groaned at the taste, tongue rubbing, searching and claiming, he felt almost like a conquistador once again. Their passionate kiss broke, and Romano gasped for air, lips glistening and oh-so-plump from the vicious kiss. The taller man knelt, placing open-mouthed kisses down his chest, neglecting his erection to bite into rough fabric and creamy thigh, earning himself a moan. He licked, suckled and bit, reveling in the contrasting flavors and textures.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black glove slide down Romano's chest, beginning to jerk himself off. Another joined it for a moment, then slid past, reaching for...oh fuck, he was sliding two gloved fingers into himself, pumping them right in front of Spain. He rocked back on his haunches, watching the show, the way Romano twisted his wrist as he plunged in, the way he flicked his fingers on his cock, making little flecks of precum land on those damnable boots.

His amber eyes were still wide as he looked up, pleading.

"I need you to fuck me, por favor!"

The Spaniard's brain floundered for a moment, trying to regain coherence. It was hard to focus when the boy he'd always fantasized about was masturbating frantically in front of him, but he finally managed to get an idea.

"Turn around." he ordered, unbuttoning his shirt. Romano complied, drawing his fingers from himself, facing the couch and lifting his hips in the air. Spain used one hand to push his knees apart and the other to position his gloved hands, still glistening with lube and precome, on the edge of the couch. Then he leaned back again, admiring his work, loving the way little Romano's thighs trembled as he tried to keep his balance in huge heels. His erection hung down between them, swollen and red, framed by the leather. He looked so deliciously submissive, it went straight to Spain's dick. He stood up slowly, reaching for the lube in between the cushions.

"Don't tease me, you bastard." groaned Romano from the couch. Secretly he was loving every scorching, lasting second, but he didn't want to give that away. Spain's smile returned, less empty-headed and more lustful.

"Seems like I won't have to, you did a good job while I was out. Did you fit three fingers in here?" he tapped the peaches-and-cream ass in front of him, and Romano arched, frustrated.

"Chigi, maybe if you came home and gave me a hard fuck once in a while, I wouldn't have to use my hand."

That did it. Spain slicked himself quickly, then lined up and began to push in, groaning at the sensation. Even after stretching, he was tight and clenching, the muscles drawing and tugging at Spain hungrily. Slowly he impaled the writhing Italian, leaning forward to kiss his neck, then nip it when Romano clenched hard on his length. Slim hips undulated back to his, and he couldn't resist moving.

Pulling out almost all the way and slamming in hard, earning himself a mewl. A slick slide and a burn like he'd never experienced before. He drove in to the hilt, pressing over his little Romano's prostate, making him scream like an animal. It was fast and rough, the way Romano had wanted it, and Spain found himself having to slide two fingers in front of them, encircling Romano's length, staving off the much-needed orgasm. He yelled again, quaking with want.

The desperate sound sent Spain over, biting the smaller nation's neck to hold him still, shuddering violently as white ropes of cum poured out of his slit, emptying into the hot body beneath him. His orgasm went on and on, shot after shot, so much that when he finally drew out, a sticky white trail dripped down onto the edge of the boot. The image fried itself into a normally oblivious brain for future use, but right now Spain intended to flip Romano over and "use" him for something else entirely.

Spain pulled out gently, bodily lifting the other and turning him over, not giving him a chance to adjust or cool off before beginning his second attack. Hooking booted legs over his shoulders, he proceeded to tongue his way down them, lapping up the taste of his essence from one, but never halting his feasting. Not until he reached his goal.

A wide, wet lick slicked the hole, then a darting motion laved away the cum that slid out, torturing the boy some. Soon he was chasing Spain's movements, begging in Italian, Spanish and English for more, thicker, something, please. Spain resisted, unwilling to give up his savory treat even though his own arousal was pulsing back to life at the sight of Romano's flushed face staring down between his thighs. The taste of ambrosia spilling from him was not to be ignored, and the tanned nation pushed his tongue in deep, fucking it in and out slowly.

Inside was heavenly and Spain groaned at the feel of muscles fluttering around his tongue, imagining them on his cock again. His hand automatically gripped Romano, preventing his release once again. The sunny nation wanted to milk him of cum, to make him spill as much as he could, white and hot, for both of them to taste together. The vibrations made Romano groan and yell, tightening his legs and digging those sharp heels in like spurs, egging Spain on.

He stood again, letting those booted calves slide from his shoulders to his waist, holding and stroking them very purposefully as he slipped in again. Those clenching flutters assaulted him, and he loved it, going all the way to the hilt, feeling the heat of cum that his tongue hadn't caught. His hips angled to push over Romano's hot spot with every thrust, making him quiver and twitch as though being electrocuted. Lust fogged eyes caught his, asking permission, and he gave it with a nod. Once again those black gloved hands slid down, one fondling the purple-red cock, the other lower, to tug lightly at his balls, rubbing and rolling them for Spain's greedy eyes.

Then it traveled lower again, and did something mind-scrambling yet again. Romano slipped one gloved finger in, over Spain's cock, pumping it in time with the thrusts. If that wasn't enough, the smooth leather rubbed him directly, the seam teasing his foreskin every time he pulled out. Fuckfuckfuck, that increased his tightness to the millionth degree, and the thrusts became conquering slams of the hips.

His orgasm wound tight in his stomach, and he when saw Romano's cock, thick and swollen at the base, filled to the brim with cum, that did it, and Spain was drenched in fire and cream as he spilled himself into that beautiful slut with the rouge-red boots. He moved rapidly, fucking the younger nation with all his strength.

"Come, Romano!" He ordered simply.

Romano complied, arching his back at an almost painful angle, fingers tearing into the couch stuffing and he came and came. It exploded out of him, spattering both their chests with pearly white, a little bit landing on Spain's face where he licked it away. Delicious, so salty and bitter. It was exactly what he'd wanted, thick ropes of cum painting them white, decorating their chests, frosting Romano's erect nipples. Delectable.

As they finished, Spain's knees gave out and he slid to the floor, panting and resting his head on Romano's thigh. After a moment, he looked up to see the boy he'd had elaborate fantasies about drag one finger through the come on his chest and lick it clean like a favored treat. Spain couldn't help but lean up and join in, savoring the flavor and their tongues tangling repeatedly, making a mental note to pay France's telephone bill for the next few months.

Translation: Da me un beso: A slightly butchered way to say "give me a kiss"

Por favor: Please!