yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2010-05-05 10:10 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-05-05 10:10 pm
Entry tags:
90;
Title: como te amo
Characters: Spain, England
Rating: PG
For LJ's 30smiles' bonus prompt 'darker side of the moon'. The meaning is subtler here, I think.
He's awoken by a voice, one that murmurs and whispers into his ear as he's drawn against the man behind him, finding arms circled tight around his chest and legs to either side of him. He breathes deeply, glancing back and his vision swims before his eyes, suddenly, a wave of dizziness. He squeezes them close and concentrates on the soft, swinging voice behind him, low and tender.
“...amo. Como te amo. Como te quiero, perro idioto...”
England tries not to gasp or flinch at those words, but it's too late; Spain knows he's awake and so decorates his neck with butterfly kisses, decorates his neck with dry tears and the muttered words, exchanges between love and lust on the same tongue. He squirms, trying to get away, trying to free himself of a madman's grasp, but to no avail can he break out of the empire's stronger grasp, of such twisted love.
What feels like hours turns into minutes. He's nearly asleep again when Spain shifts him into his lap, off of the cold floor, laying his head on his chest and pressing kisses into the soft, dirty hair that was usually covered by a silly hat, though England would protest (too much) of its silliness. As far as Spain knows, England realizes, he is fast asleep again.
He's always been good at feigning sleep when he least expects to.
Characters: Spain, England
Rating: PG
For LJ's 30smiles' bonus prompt 'darker side of the moon'. The meaning is subtler here, I think.
He's awoken by a voice, one that murmurs and whispers into his ear as he's drawn against the man behind him, finding arms circled tight around his chest and legs to either side of him. He breathes deeply, glancing back and his vision swims before his eyes, suddenly, a wave of dizziness. He squeezes them close and concentrates on the soft, swinging voice behind him, low and tender.
“...amo. Como te amo. Como te quiero, perro idioto...”
England tries not to gasp or flinch at those words, but it's too late; Spain knows he's awake and so decorates his neck with butterfly kisses, decorates his neck with dry tears and the muttered words, exchanges between love and lust on the same tongue. He squirms, trying to get away, trying to free himself of a madman's grasp, but to no avail can he break out of the empire's stronger grasp, of such twisted love.
What feels like hours turns into minutes. He's nearly asleep again when Spain shifts him into his lap, off of the cold floor, laying his head on his chest and pressing kisses into the soft, dirty hair that was usually covered by a silly hat, though England would protest (too much) of its silliness. As far as Spain knows, England realizes, he is fast asleep again.
He's always been good at feigning sleep when he least expects to.