~Big Boss Romano and Teenaged Spain~
A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction * Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2011
SpainxRomano *

Hey everyone, its just me.. I just wanted to apologise to you all for the crappy quality of my stories and lack of new fics lately. Its just ive been feeling pretty crap about my life for the past month or so, about my drawing and writing and blach blah blah, and kind of upset because I set myself such impossibly hig
h standards, and compare myself to others, even though I know I will never be so good, or so popular, or so confident as a lot of the people I aspire to beat. I guess I just have too much to prove to still be a nobody, and am too much oa a nobody to do anything about that, and it's a viscious circle that's all very upsetting and distressing and getting me down. Its something I guess I just have to work through, and on account of this lately my writing has suffered, my creativity and motivation have been nul, and I think its about time I got my act together and ficxed that. So without further ado, I present to you all a very brief little spamano filled with clichés and shoddy plot devices, in an attempt to re-learn my way around a pen. Thanks again, please enjoy. : )

He was a dead-weight.

Really he was.

Why did I even keep him around? Everything he did with the best intentions possible, and yet somehow since he arrived my house has been even messier, my mood considerably worse.

It's just horribly unfortunate, I suppose, that I have such a thing for green eyes.

"Boss?" Antonio poked his head around the column, his hair was getting long, I should probably cut it but the satiny curls were sort of cute in a homeless urchin kind of a way. He had it tied back with a chord that I don't remember giving him and sure as hell better not be a tie from any of my pants, and slung over one this shoulder. His sun hat was frayed around the brim and obviously not working, because his cute button nose was burned on the bridge. A dab of read staining caramel bonze skin and promising dark freckles, come winter.

"What is it?" I scowled and reached for my fan on the low table, beside the wicker throne on my balcony.

"I um... was just wondering. All the wheat is planted right?"

I nodded, rather than looking at him I fixed my eyes on the horizon instead, and the rolling hills bowing before me boasting grape vines and cypresses, sunflowers lifting their faces to the sky and down in the valley, the village, where the markets would soon be bustling. The evening (it was too hot to do anything during the daytime,) was wine coloured, the air thick and sweet. Crickets chirped, mosquitoes were starting to buzz. He was sweating, through the thin cloth of his cotton shirt.

"Well, seeing as there are still a few empty places on the property, I was just wondering... maybe you would like me to plant some tomatoes there?"

I narrowed my eyes and fanned myself a little harder.

"But we already have tomatoes. We don't need more.

He laughed softly and scratched his head.

"Not those kinds of tomatoes, sir. Spanish tomatoes." His bright grin made me uncomfortable.

"What's the difference?" I mumbled, and he slipped off his had, stepping into the shade and immediately entering the circle of personal space I preferred Antonio free at all times.

"Spanish tomatoes are bigger and sweeter. You will love them, I promise. It's to say thank you, for watching over me for all these years. I will always appreciate it."

I pulled a face and tried not to squirm. He will always appreciate it, I will never get used to it. Though I've cared fro him since he was four or five, every day I woke up and saw Antonio Carriedo was like waking up with a stranger in my house. And now, at fifteen, I swore he was getting less and less familiar. Less helpful, too. A lot more absent minded and carefree.

But it was his eyes, goddamnit. I was a sucker for his eyes.

"Fine," I grumbled. "but you're taking care of them."

"I take care of all the plants here anyway." His smile widened and I scowled, gesturing to the pitcher of wine on the low table beside me.

"Whatever bastard. Are you finished? Do you want a drink?"

"Huh? Oh." He laughed easily and swung on the balcony post, his arm muscles flexing smoothly beneath sweaty, delectably tanned skin. "Yah, please, lets me just water the grapes." He hopped back off the stairs and ruffled the leaves of the vines that coiled and crawled over the banister of the veranda. "Is there still water around the back?"

"Mm." I lifted the pitcher and took a drink from it myself, the sharp flavour of the wine not dusty with age yet, as it was only five or so years old. It did, however possess a strange spiciness I could only describe as Antonio, and the knowledge that it was a youthful, clingy, over-excitable Spain who had made it left me feeling rather as though I had just taken a part of him into my body, like I was drinking Antonio…

No, that was stupid!

I set the wine down and wiped the remaining beads off my lips with the back of my fan-clutching hand. Somewhere far out in the valley, a dog barked.

Antonio was quick with the water, returning with a bucketful in hand and stepping up onto the steps again, to pour it down onto the vine from above. I tilted my head to the side, observing his ass in slipping, coarse wool trousers. God he had a great ass… unlike any other ass I had ever seen, on human or nation. It was firm looking and shapely, I found myself licking my lips when he leaned over, plucking a small bunch of ripe grapes from the vine and stumbling, almost tripping right over the banister and landing in a heap below. The bucket of water resting on the rail rattled, I sat up in shock, having to tear my eyes from his backside to watch the bucket fall backward in slow motion, drenching him and earning a loud yelp of surprise.

"Oh dios," arms held awkwardly he turned to face me, clearly highly amused by the whole affair.

His tunic was dark with dampness, describing soft ripples of pubescent muscle and a heavy rosary against his firm chest. The coldness pricked his nipples, and laughing, he smoothed his hands over the hem as if doing so would ease the wetness there away.

"Merde," he swore lightly, tugging on the wet item and lifting it up in preparation to pull it over his head. "Now I have to find a new shirt, you don't have one I could borrow do you?"

"I uh…" I stared at the peek of exposed stomach, smooth caramel gold skin, the snails trail of hair pathing from taught stomach button to the hem of his short trousers. "My clothes won't fit you any more, you're too big…"

"Ah, you're right." He schlicked his top right off and cast it carelessly over the wooden bench. "Oh well, no problem. It's not too cold today." He sniffed and scratched his upper lip thoughtfully, head turning to check if any of the water had gone over the other side too, and watered the vines like he had intended.

"argh… now I have to get another bucket." He pulled a face. "There are no more around the back, I'll have to walk to the pump and… Lovi, are you okay?"

I jumped at the slip of his tongue, both shocked at whatever he had just called me and embarrassed about being caught staring at his stomach.

"What?" astonished, I stared at him. "What did you just call me?"

He pinched his eyebrows together and regarded me for a moment. "Lovi… sorry, it slipped out." His hand flitted over his stomach, almost as though he was unable to decide if he wanted me to look at it of if he wanted me to look away. "Are you okay? You look a little… dozy."

"I'm fine!" my face though, I could feel it taking on that humiliating red colouration. "What makes you think I wouldn't be? Stop looking at me like that!"

Like that, with faintly worried eccentric green eyes and full smooth lips tucked between perfect white teeth.

"Ah… right." He turned away and clattered back down the low stairs, grabbing the bucket with resolution to acquire more water. "I guess I will be back in twenty minutes."

I nodded, rubbing my mouth shyly, heart hammering. He cast one last concerned look my way before disappearing across the small yard and through the little fence, down the side of the hill, to pump water.

"I want you so much right now."

I stirred from sleep, his voice purring across my neck to the root of my ear. The first thing I smelt was his hair, dusky and sweet in an earthy kind of way, and the first thing I felt was the warmth in my hand, the rigid guiding of my fingers across planes that were unfamiliar, and warm. "Wake up boss… this is no time to sleep…"


Needless to say, I was several shades of surprised, with a bit of horrified and disbelieving thrown in. "What do you think you are doing?"

He tumbled backward on my bed, the wooden slats creaking, chuckling softly. The bastard had lit my bedside candelabra while I was asleep, and by the surprisingly vivid light, I could see he was below the waist naked, his loose tunic hanging handsomely of a bronzed, youthful frame.

"Seducing my boss, of course." He grinned and shuffled back toward me, despite the shaking hand I shoved forward to push him away.

"Oh no you are not!" instinctively crossing my legs, I tried to think of something. A threat I could make, something I could say to make him back off…

"Why not? Don't you want me?" his head tilted to the side coyly, the faintest of shy smiles made my toes curl in the bed sheets. Slowly, stealthily he advanced, my heart bounced.

"Well?" somehow, his face was right by mine by this point. "Do you? Don't you?"


"Ssh." He pressed his finger to my lips and I shivered. "Boss…"

"… Antonio."

"Can I kiss you?"

Well, I did not have a single clue as to where it had come from, wether he was acting on his own free will or if it was an action influenced by whatever signals I had been sending. Maybe it was both, maybe it was a figment of my overactive imagination, but I was pretty sure that um, Antonio Carriedo, my ward and the steadily strengthening nation of Spain, had just asked me to kiss him.

Oh, who was I kidding. I wanted this so badly.

He squeaked quietly in surprise when I grabbed the sides of his face and jerked him forward, once he got the idea, it was fine for me to slump against the head board, arms wide either side and allowing him to plunge his tongue inside my mouth.

Fuck Antonio's mouth! It was warm and confident, tasting ever so subtly like the garlicy tomato soup he had made for dinner that evening, and with the satin of dessert wine lingering on the back of his teeth was sweet and spine melting. It was good. It was so good. Better than I had ever dreamed. I whined, breathless, and tilted my chin to pull my mouth away. Not a problem though, his lips found a swift attachment to my jaw, my throat, the side of my neck beside the lobe of my ear. His teeth caught the shell, I felt the fabric of capillaries beneath my skin flood with heat and sensitivity, his one hand slid over my bare chest, playing with my collarbone.

"I didn't know you slept naked…."

"I-Its to h-ot…"

"Not as hot as you boss…" his kisses descended down my breastbone, fingers savouring every notch of rib. "It could never be as hot as you." He reached my belly and pushed the sheet still partially covering me down my thighs.

I was… a little afraid of having him see me naked. After all, he was young and handsome, I was a petite and quasi –old in comparison. My body wasn't in the best shape, I was kind of on the small side (I was not a tall man, alright?) and well, having him so close to me had bunched my balls up a little, and hardened my cock not so that it was ragingly erect but enough for it to be visible, and not quite small enough to fit in his mouth.

Again with that incredible mouth!

He dipped his lips eagerly over the crown and sucked, light at first, enough to startle me, and send my hands flying to knot in his hair. He had soft hair, I thought abstractly through the haze of lust. Very oft, fragrant with whatever he used to wash it, and dark. So dark.

"Ahh…" his tongue traced the sides of it, his eyes lifting to my face briefly and maybe lingering I couldn't tell because I looked away, unable to take seeing the low sparkle in dilated pupils. Bit by bit he drew it out, kissing and teasing, the crude sucking sounds prickling the hairs on the back of my neck. I petted his hair, head tipping back, helpless and hot and fuck yes. I wanted him more.

Cautiously. Holding my hips, he pulled me down the bed and not stopping once with his sucking ran both hands along the v between my thighs. His thumbs ghosted my testicles, and that was a totally new, extremely gratifying thing to do, and he picked up on that because in a flash he was rolling them, squeezing them, making me lift my hips off the mattress and moan. He held them gently and squeezed them together, moving off my dick for a moment to take one, the whole left, into his mouth. His teeth grazed at the loose skin and it tingled, my erection complained heavily of its loss of stimulation but his hand was happy to attend, flat palm pushing it up against my stomach in long patting motions, like one strokes a cat. Precum and saliva pattered on my stomach, I wiggled and he released my testicle only to kiss and nibble the other. I was convinced, by this point, my heart was not going to take this. That I was going to die here, in this bed, with his tongue crawling slowly from my balls back up the back of my dick. His tongue flicked up and he enveloped the head underneath, I shuddered. It was a strange sensation, feeling smoother and slipperier than the surface, and strung to the bottom of his mouth by a thin tie of pulsing flesh. Even stranger were the heals of his palms pressing upward, his nails scratching my chest and his hands groping imaginary breasts. My nipples beneath his palms tickled and like my cock throbbed when he paid them no attention. It wasn't fair of him, to play such dirty things as this, and gasping I told him this as he kissed his way back up my side to my mouth. When he got there, it was open, babbling a nonsensical complaint, and he kissed me as he straddled my chest, jerking my head up and pressing his own dick, curtained by his shirt, to my lips.

"Suck my dick, Boss."

It was a big one, and it was firm with blood, pulsing with its own little heartbeat against my mouth. Though I had little experience in the field of sucking cocks, I, with little hesitation, obliged and couldn't have been doing too bad a job, because he hissed softly, pleased, when my lips touched the neck of his shaft.

"That's good, just do what I did and you will be fine."

This was easier said than done, I was not so nimble with my mouth. But he was patient enough to a point, curling my hair with his fingers and rubbing the shells of my ears. The first hesitant few seconds of just licking and adjusting to the alien flavour of him made me dizzy with lust, every soft 'oh,' and 'ah' that accidentally slipped from his lips encouraged me, and I carried on, eager, convicted to the cause.

As if he knew the effect he pinched my curl and coiled it tightly around his finger. When I sighed, he loosed a small amount of strongly bitter precum onto my tongue. His testes tapped against my collar bone as I bobbed my head, I held his hips, and with the guidance of his hands moving my head swiftly and shallowly over his cock I was stable, able to indulge and sigh and work myself up, into a state where I pulled my lips from his length and went to ask him to come on my face. God I wanted his come on my face. The warm stickiness, heavy on my skin and tasting like Antonio. My Antonio. Even the fragrance of his precum made my skin crawl and tingle.

But before I could ask, he asked me something else.

"Suck on my balls." He pushed me down tenderly, not so gentle as to be guiding me but not so hard as to shove. "I can do this." His hand seized his dick and began to pump. If I had given it a second, and actually looked at his firm, slightly furred but otherwise pleasant testes, I would have double thought. I'm glad I did not.

It was weird, having them in my mouth. The skin was loose and like his erection a little salty, but it was soft, and he seemed to just liquefy above me when I did it, panting heavily, fisting his cock and making the filthiest noises I had ever heard. I wondered briefly how it was even possible for a fifteen year old to be able to make such noises, but that thought didn't linger long. Because suddenly he had moved, pulling back from me and extracting his sack from my mouth with a pop. I squirmed down the bed, and wiped my mouth discreetly.

"It's okay." He kissed the missed spots away. "I will clean everything up when we are done." His gruff voice and heavy breath was the only indicator he was aroused. Facially, he was perfectly composed. Eyes halfcast, smiling neatly. There wasn't even a sheen of sweat on his forehead, where as I was positively slippery with it. "But I need you to cum so I have something to stretch you with."

"Huh?" weak, I arched my chest and ground against him, burying my face against his deliciously fragrant neck. Tender kisses to the side of my head, his hand slithered between us and swiftly, fiercely, he began jacking me off.

So I came.

It was not just an orgasm, it was a release. A relief. It was like every painful year of having him in his home had suddenly paid off in one wild sweep of unanticipated body wide contractions and shivers. He caught every last drop in his hand, and before I was even properly done I felt him rubbing, stroking wet semen into my body. His finger dipped in fine enough, and he seemed pleasantly surprised.

"You touch yourself here, don't you?"

Before I could answer though, he hand his slippery finger all the way in, his tongue pressed inside my mouth and him body squashed firmly against my own.


Everything in that moment, everything about me and around me and against me was Spain. The taste of him, the feel of him. His perfume. Tomatoes and earth and sweat. The sensation of bare chest to bare chest, skin sliding over lubricated skin and him inside of me, prying around, pushing me open and nudging until a specific spot is located, rubbed around with the pad of his finger until I'm gasping and begging him to stop.

"What's wrong? Does it feel bad?"

"No, I just…" I shook my head and kissed his throat, conflicted. I wanted him to be able to read my mind, rather than have to say it out loud, but I feared that if he could, he would be able to see everything inside me. All the horrible dirty fantasies I had of him fucking me, ploughing me, claiming me completely. Every filthy position I had fantasized him screwing me in floated to the top of my mind and I clenched around his finger.

"You want me to fuck you?"


"Open your legs, I want to get another finger in there first." He leant back and wrenched open my thighs.

"No… no more fingers…"

"What, do you want me to fuck you now?" he smiled a little and removed his finger, rubbing insteed around the spot, stroking in little teasing circles. I could feel it twitching, hungry.

"Do you think you are ready for- okay..." he saw me nodding ferociously, and gave me a scandalous little wink. I gave in to a deep moan of want, pulled from all the way in the base of my stomach, when he nudged his erection into place, sliding it back and forth over the dip there untill I hissed, warning him ineffectually that he had better fucking do it or else.

Sighing, he lifted my hips, hands rolling over my ass cheeks and pushing them open. I loved the way my flesh yeilded beneeth the strength in his palms, it spiraled firery licks of passionate flame all the way up my back and I arched, whining when he poped his head in, giving me a sample of what was to come.

"Wow, it goes in easy." he pulled out again, rolling off and inviting me on top. "I'm impressed..."

"Shut up!" I let him pull me onto his lap and reach down to line us up. Once he had the tip in again, I actually siezed him, to stop him from making any undesired moves.

"You neednt squeeze it." he laughed, easing my hand off and taking my hips down with insistant little pulls. "It's not going anywhere, I want to be inside of you right now."

And with that thought in my mind, he impaled me, hands sliding up the sides of my body to my shoulders, rubbing them deeply and letting me take control. As expected, he was vocal in bed, moaning and sighing a lot, but I didnt pay it any attention, too busy listening to my own struggling breath, rocking my hips slowly, slowly, then realising he wasnt quite reaching where I liked it, and I needed to go faster.

"Antonio..." his fingers kneeding my neck draged tides of hotness dripping both ways through me, a moment seeping down, another pouring up until it was a storm of heat inside my body, and he was blurring at the edges, dissolving lovingly into my hips.

"Lovi..." he was gasping, pulling me down for an open mouthed kiss. "tell me you like it."

"I like it!" my fingers ripped at his hair, I bit his shoulder recklessly when his dick grated my prostate. Together our panting was probably audible all the way down the hall and in Feliciano's sie of the hosue. "Fuck Antonio I love it! Ah! Ahhh..."

"Good, keep going. Fuck Lovi... Lovi... Loviiiii~"

I shivered, edging closer toward my second release. My body weight on top of him restricted movement of his hips but also meant he couldnt pull out. I meant to make him cum inside of me. I wanted to have his cum in my body, filling me up drp to drop, and sinking me forever in the tumultuous ocean of lust and love...

"… oh god Antonio, fill me, yes… oh yes… ahhhhh~"

A crash and a splash, I leapt up, hurriedly pulling my cum slicked hands out of my trousers, eyes snapping open, and sat up from my low slump in the chair. Since I had slipped into my fantasy, the sun had sunk lower in the sky, there was hardly any light now, and all that remained framed Antonio in gold, a halo, beautiful and godlike...

He had dropped the bucket of water on the porch in surprise. It puddle over the wood, and drenched the hem of his pants.

After ten seconds of unholy awkwardness, he spoke.

"I, uh, got the water?"

And that was about the second my dignity died.


Jada. Done. I dont own the characters in hetalia, and i dunno what is this just whatever. -.-

Please review? *review whore...*