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Entry tags:
Carnations
Title: Carnations
Characters/Pairing: Spain/Romano
Rating: R
Warning: Implied Blood Play, BDSM, Nation names & Human names used, dub-con. Part of the Power Exchange Universe.
Summary: Spain gets what Romano wishes he'd always take.
This was not what Antonio had expected to find when he got home from drinking with Gilbert. After all, it wasn't his birthday, nor any other celebratory day he could think of. Nor did he think he'd had all that much to drink and so was not likely to be suffering delusions.
He looked back at his bed.
Romano was still there. There was once a time that such an occurrence was common place; Romano had rarely spent a night not in Antonio's bed while having been a protectorate. But it had been years since he'd had the thrill of seeing South Italy in his bed, wrapped in his colors, protected by him, owned by him.
He sighed to himself suddenly annoyed with the memories of the past.
Francis and Gilbert must have gotten tired of all the nights he spent singing Romano's praises and decided to do something about it. Since Gilbert had been in view all night long, that meant Francis had been responsible for this. Antonio shook his head at his old friend's well-meaning actions as he walked towards his bed and the bound nation in it.
He had nothing truly binding Romano to him. His claim to Romano had ended when the Italian had moved out to unify with his brother. The gold braids glittering at Romano's throat meant nothing now. For all the time Romano had worn his collar - gold and rubies bound together - never once had he laid a hand on Romano even when he had the right to his body.
And hadn't that been a challenge? At the height of her imperial power, Queen Isabella had asked him why he hadn't taken Romano instead of the human Consorts paraded in front of him. After all she pointed out, wasn't Romano Spain's Most Favored Protectorate? And was not the Most Favored Protectorate in all actuality meant to be a Consort for Spain? Had she not personally seen to Romano being given the best education a Consort could have?
(Spain had almost died that night on his return from the New World to find his Romano had spent the last five years in dedicated tutelage of the Royal Pleasure House of Spain. There had been a moment of stunned disbelief before having to make a hasty retreat to his rooms. The knowledge of what that tattoo extending down Romano's neck into shirt meant; he'd been so close to grabbing him and claiming him right there in the hallway. The look in Lovi's eyes as he'd glanced at him...Antonio fled back to the New World barely two days later rather then give into the walking temptation that was his Lovi. )
Sometimes he wished Isabella hadn't been as brilliantly sharp as she had been. Of all his bosses, it had been her who'd come the closest to getting Antonio to claim his Protectorate. But how could he explain to his Queen his need for blood, to see the delicate red ribbons slashing down tanned skin, and the taste of copper in his mouth? Antonio hadn't wanted to see the fear in Romano's eyes, and so he'd pretended to be oblivious to everyone because the mere thought of breaking Romano broke his heart. He'd feared then, and still did, that despite his millenia of control and training, the temptation of Loviono Romano Vargas would prove to be too much.
(Also, a part of him was mildly concerned that North Italy, Felicianzo would find out if he did anything to Romano and he'd really prefer not making Feli cry as it always made him feel like he was kicking a puppy. Plus if Prussia and France discovered that he'd made Feli cry...Hnm. Best avoid that if possible. Fights with Gilbert and Francis were troublesome.)
He found himself standing next to his bed, his eyes wandering over the knots holding Romano's arms in place. Antonio had to admit that Francis certainly knew his stuff when it came to tying fellow nations up. Just enough slack in the (red, dios, red) ropes for Romano to twist and writhe on the bed. Knots carefully placed to cause little in the way of pressure. Eight loops of that damned red, rope, laid gently against skin, cinched together in the middle.
Breath he reminded himself. No matter how much he wanted to believe that Romano was willingly tied to his bed and wanted to be there, he knew other wise. Romano would never submit willingly like this, give in to physical affection. Still the lure of Romano in his bed, wrapped in red rope was a temptation even the most saintly would find hard to turn down.
(Spain, as anyone who knew him could attest, was no saint. He'd conquered half the known world and when that wasn't enough, he'd gone out and discovered a new one. He'd stormed over fellow nations. He'd held them down as they thrashed against him, struggling for their freedom. He'd made them bleed for him and the high he'd gotten from the blood still made him shiver even now.)
Just one touch. That's all he'd give himself before untying his Romano. Just one touch to get him through the next few decades of lonely nights. His hand reached out and traced the red Carnation on Romano's neck.
Romano stilled briefly at the touch before erupting into a frantic movement trying to free himself. The correct thing to do here, would be to cut Romano loose, take the abuse Romano would be sure to dish out, then quietly inform Francis to leave *his collared* nation alone. Perhaps even pretend it never happened, but who could forget this sight? Romano tied up, gagged and blindfolded in his bed.
Helpless to whatever Antonio wanted to do to him. It was like all the dreams he'd had for centuries were suddenly real. Romano in his bed, wrapped in his colors, aroused and needy.
The urge grew. Red blood, red ropes, against the background of beautiful South Italy. Vibrant copper red pigment colored the Carnation decorating Romano's neck, a sign the Pleasure House of Spain, had not only trained the boy, but had honored him with the standings of Most Favored.
He knelt on the bed, heart beating.
Romano whined beneath him. His back arched and his hands worked as he twisted in the sheets. He was trying to say something, but the words were muffled and garbled beneath the gag.
Antonio was a greedy man and here was something he'd lusted over for centuries splayed out before him in the manner he most wanted. How many nights had he woken up to a dream so similar? Yes, the right thing to do would be to free his Romano and take some revenge on those two lackwits; but at this particular moment Antonio felt anything but like doing the right thing. A glance at the bedside table told him Francis had gotten into the locked chest he kept in the back of his closet - the silvery wet gleam of sharp metal told him that much.
Romano had calmed down from the frenetic bucking he'd been doing and was laying still on the black bedsheets, legs and hips twitching occasionally. A pleading noise drifted up.
Antonio smiled darkly. If Romano was pleading, then this must be a dream. For as long as Antonio had had his Lovi, he'd never pleaded or begged.
If this was a dream, he'd take it.
If it wasn't well..he'd just have to make it worth the inevitable explosion and physical violence.
"Lovi," he breathed into Romano's ear. The other nation stiffened and then relaxed. "Let me send you to the stars for the night."
"Lovi."
A pinch to the skin, a soothing touch. An angrydesperatewet sound from the bound Italian.
"Let me love you."
A bit to neck. A whimper drifted up.
"Let me in."
A kiss as he removed the gag and Romano's body melted beneath him. Antonio grinned against his beloved's mouth as something within him sang out in happiness for the first time in centuries.
AN:
This is drabble that came out of an outline for a fic with America and England.
A not-so-brief explanation:
Pleasure Houses:
Each of the European and Asian countries have Pleasure Houses. Each one is unique to that country and no two Houses are the same, as the Pleasure House reflects the personification of that nation's kinks. So for this fic, Spain's Royal Pleasure House is big into Blood Play, Piercings and Bondage since that's what Spain's kinks are.
Most Favored:
The standing of Most Favored were given only to those the Masters and Mistresses of the Royal House felt best matched the ideals of the subs of that house. For Romano to have earned that standing in Spain's Royal House....Tis a Big Deal. Even if Spain chose to ignore what it meant for oh, centuries. Someone can tell a Most Favored by the fact they're marked with their Pleasure House's associated nation's national flower. A Master or Mistress on the other hand is marked with the symbol of the national animal/bird.
Queen Isabella:
Anon believes Spain thought of Queen Isabella as if she was his innocent little sister. So he's not willing to spill his um, kinks to her, while she rolls her eyes and wonders if Spain realizes she already knows and thinks he's being a moron.
I have to give credit to Keira Marcos for inspiring this fic with her Ties That Bind SG-A universe fics. She is awesome.
Characters/Pairing: Spain/Romano
Rating: R
Warning: Implied Blood Play, BDSM, Nation names & Human names used, dub-con. Part of the Power Exchange Universe.
Summary: Spain gets what Romano wishes he'd always take.
This was not what Antonio had expected to find when he got home from drinking with Gilbert. After all, it wasn't his birthday, nor any other celebratory day he could think of. Nor did he think he'd had all that much to drink and so was not likely to be suffering delusions.
He looked back at his bed.
Romano was still there. There was once a time that such an occurrence was common place; Romano had rarely spent a night not in Antonio's bed while having been a protectorate. But it had been years since he'd had the thrill of seeing South Italy in his bed, wrapped in his colors, protected by him, owned by him.
He sighed to himself suddenly annoyed with the memories of the past.
Francis and Gilbert must have gotten tired of all the nights he spent singing Romano's praises and decided to do something about it. Since Gilbert had been in view all night long, that meant Francis had been responsible for this. Antonio shook his head at his old friend's well-meaning actions as he walked towards his bed and the bound nation in it.
He had nothing truly binding Romano to him. His claim to Romano had ended when the Italian had moved out to unify with his brother. The gold braids glittering at Romano's throat meant nothing now. For all the time Romano had worn his collar - gold and rubies bound together - never once had he laid a hand on Romano even when he had the right to his body.
And hadn't that been a challenge? At the height of her imperial power, Queen Isabella had asked him why he hadn't taken Romano instead of the human Consorts paraded in front of him. After all she pointed out, wasn't Romano Spain's Most Favored Protectorate? And was not the Most Favored Protectorate in all actuality meant to be a Consort for Spain? Had she not personally seen to Romano being given the best education a Consort could have?
(Spain had almost died that night on his return from the New World to find his Romano had spent the last five years in dedicated tutelage of the Royal Pleasure House of Spain. There had been a moment of stunned disbelief before having to make a hasty retreat to his rooms. The knowledge of what that tattoo extending down Romano's neck into shirt meant; he'd been so close to grabbing him and claiming him right there in the hallway. The look in Lovi's eyes as he'd glanced at him...Antonio fled back to the New World barely two days later rather then give into the walking temptation that was his Lovi. )
Sometimes he wished Isabella hadn't been as brilliantly sharp as she had been. Of all his bosses, it had been her who'd come the closest to getting Antonio to claim his Protectorate. But how could he explain to his Queen his need for blood, to see the delicate red ribbons slashing down tanned skin, and the taste of copper in his mouth? Antonio hadn't wanted to see the fear in Romano's eyes, and so he'd pretended to be oblivious to everyone because the mere thought of breaking Romano broke his heart. He'd feared then, and still did, that despite his millenia of control and training, the temptation of Loviono Romano Vargas would prove to be too much.
(Also, a part of him was mildly concerned that North Italy, Felicianzo would find out if he did anything to Romano and he'd really prefer not making Feli cry as it always made him feel like he was kicking a puppy. Plus if Prussia and France discovered that he'd made Feli cry...Hnm. Best avoid that if possible. Fights with Gilbert and Francis were troublesome.)
He found himself standing next to his bed, his eyes wandering over the knots holding Romano's arms in place. Antonio had to admit that Francis certainly knew his stuff when it came to tying fellow nations up. Just enough slack in the (red, dios, red) ropes for Romano to twist and writhe on the bed. Knots carefully placed to cause little in the way of pressure. Eight loops of that damned red, rope, laid gently against skin, cinched together in the middle.
Breath he reminded himself. No matter how much he wanted to believe that Romano was willingly tied to his bed and wanted to be there, he knew other wise. Romano would never submit willingly like this, give in to physical affection. Still the lure of Romano in his bed, wrapped in red rope was a temptation even the most saintly would find hard to turn down.
(Spain, as anyone who knew him could attest, was no saint. He'd conquered half the known world and when that wasn't enough, he'd gone out and discovered a new one. He'd stormed over fellow nations. He'd held them down as they thrashed against him, struggling for their freedom. He'd made them bleed for him and the high he'd gotten from the blood still made him shiver even now.)
Just one touch. That's all he'd give himself before untying his Romano. Just one touch to get him through the next few decades of lonely nights. His hand reached out and traced the red Carnation on Romano's neck.
Romano stilled briefly at the touch before erupting into a frantic movement trying to free himself. The correct thing to do here, would be to cut Romano loose, take the abuse Romano would be sure to dish out, then quietly inform Francis to leave *his collared* nation alone. Perhaps even pretend it never happened, but who could forget this sight? Romano tied up, gagged and blindfolded in his bed.
Helpless to whatever Antonio wanted to do to him. It was like all the dreams he'd had for centuries were suddenly real. Romano in his bed, wrapped in his colors, aroused and needy.
The urge grew. Red blood, red ropes, against the background of beautiful South Italy. Vibrant copper red pigment colored the Carnation decorating Romano's neck, a sign the Pleasure House of Spain, had not only trained the boy, but had honored him with the standings of Most Favored.
He knelt on the bed, heart beating.
Romano whined beneath him. His back arched and his hands worked as he twisted in the sheets. He was trying to say something, but the words were muffled and garbled beneath the gag.
Antonio was a greedy man and here was something he'd lusted over for centuries splayed out before him in the manner he most wanted. How many nights had he woken up to a dream so similar? Yes, the right thing to do would be to free his Romano and take some revenge on those two lackwits; but at this particular moment Antonio felt anything but like doing the right thing. A glance at the bedside table told him Francis had gotten into the locked chest he kept in the back of his closet - the silvery wet gleam of sharp metal told him that much.
Romano had calmed down from the frenetic bucking he'd been doing and was laying still on the black bedsheets, legs and hips twitching occasionally. A pleading noise drifted up.
Antonio smiled darkly. If Romano was pleading, then this must be a dream. For as long as Antonio had had his Lovi, he'd never pleaded or begged.
If this was a dream, he'd take it.
If it wasn't well..he'd just have to make it worth the inevitable explosion and physical violence.
"Lovi," he breathed into Romano's ear. The other nation stiffened and then relaxed. "Let me send you to the stars for the night."
"Lovi."
A pinch to the skin, a soothing touch. An angrydesperatewet sound from the bound Italian.
"Let me love you."
A bit to neck. A whimper drifted up.
"Let me in."
A kiss as he removed the gag and Romano's body melted beneath him. Antonio grinned against his beloved's mouth as something within him sang out in happiness for the first time in centuries.
AN:
This is drabble that came out of an outline for a fic with America and England.
A not-so-brief explanation:
Pleasure Houses:
Each of the European and Asian countries have Pleasure Houses. Each one is unique to that country and no two Houses are the same, as the Pleasure House reflects the personification of that nation's kinks. So for this fic, Spain's Royal Pleasure House is big into Blood Play, Piercings and Bondage since that's what Spain's kinks are.
Most Favored:
The standing of Most Favored were given only to those the Masters and Mistresses of the Royal House felt best matched the ideals of the subs of that house. For Romano to have earned that standing in Spain's Royal House....Tis a Big Deal. Even if Spain chose to ignore what it meant for oh, centuries. Someone can tell a Most Favored by the fact they're marked with their Pleasure House's associated nation's national flower. A Master or Mistress on the other hand is marked with the symbol of the national animal/bird.
Queen Isabella:
Anon believes Spain thought of Queen Isabella as if she was his innocent little sister. So he's not willing to spill his um, kinks to her, while she rolls her eyes and wonders if Spain realizes she already knows and thinks he's being a moron.
I have to give credit to Keira Marcos for inspiring this fic with her Ties That Bind SG-A universe fics. She is awesome.