Inspiration: Ice skating
You’ve forgotten whose idea it was. Ice skating has always been such a terrible sport for the uncoordinated. The day might have been salvaged had at least one of you possessed any basic knowledge of skating but of course this was too much to ask for.
“Dios mío, I’m freezing,”  Antonio mutters as he steps inside. You hurry after him, eager for the warmth of the house. The relief you feel when you kick your icy boots off is palpable. When you go to take off your coat, Antonio is already behind you to help. You never tire of his Old World manners, and when he goes to wrap his arms around your waist, you sigh.
“You are cold,” you tell him, glancing behind your shoulder at him. He gives you the cheeky smile he’s so good at procuring and shrugs. The movement travels across your form.
“Feel my hands,” he says, as if trying to prove that he really is freezing to death. His fingers curl around yours and you nearly flinch at the icy feel of them. Spain really doesn’t fare well in the cold. A warm, prosperous summer country like him has absolutely no resilience to snow. You turn in his arms and frown up at him. His lips aren’t blue. That’s good, at least.
“Maybe you should go take a hot shower and warm yourself up,” you suggest, tilting your head. A fire would also help. A warm dinner. The list goes on and you are suddenly eager to make the evening as relaxing as possible for him. But he only smiles, leans in, and rather randomly kisses your cheek. His lips are like solid chunks of ice.
You cringe but laugh, because now he’s playfully kissing your jaw and your neck and it’s rather nice, the feel of those cold lips. It makes you shiver, but it also makes a delightful sort of heat pool within you as well. The feeling is so typical of Antonio that you sigh and snuggle closer, content even though being so near to him makes you cold, too. There is only one real cure for warming this chill. You think he knows it, too.
His fingers cup your face and suddenly his mouth is lingering inches from yours. The distance seems so far and unconquerable. You lock your eyes with his and press closer, gripping his sweater with desperate fists. To say that you want his kiss would be a deplorable understatement. In this moment, you doubt you’ve ever wanted anything more fiercely in your life.
The first brush of his mouth is sweet, barely there, and gentle. It is the outer layer of him, the part everyone sees, the emotions people expect of him. It’s pleasant but not nearly fiery enough, and the second his mouth tucks closer to yours you feel the heady sense of passion blistering through you. His fingers tremble as he brings you closer. His lips burn against yours.
You kiss him back with everything you are. Your hands smooth down his chest and curl around him, lingering and clutching at his back. When you press yourself into him closer, the sudden sharpness of his passion presses back and you gasp. The sound makes Antonio crazy, in a lustful, dominant way, and you gasp again when he bites your bottom lip and drags his tongue over the stinging flesh.
It isn’t enough, it never is, and while you could stand there and kiss this man for the entire evening and never tire, there are other things you’d like to do as well. Other battles you’d like to win, too. So you kiss him again then you slowly pull away, enjoying the way his lips follow you back until the last minute. Oh yes, this is one battle you’ll very much like to win.
You gently push him back, stepping away from him. His dark eyes are a lustful mix of predator and prey as he watches you, wondering what you’re planning. He straightens his back and stuffs his hands into his pockets, turning to face you. The way you’re smiling has him on edge.
He knows you’re about to do something that will make him crazy, but nothing can prepare him for the way your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt as you lift it off. Your body arches back as the shirt is stripped away and suddenly all Antonio can think about is kissing over that stomach, worshipping your skin, marking you as eternally his.
“Mi amor…”  he whispers, stepping closer. But you merely step back, give him that flirty smile, and turn to the fireplace. “Get a blanket, would you?” you ask him as you start a fire. For a moment, there is only silence. But then Antonio chuckles that dark, as you wish chuckle and patters off to do your bidding. When he returns, it is with a thick quilt that he quickly spreads on the ground.
You can feel him watching you, but he doesn’t reach out for you and you don’t look at him. There is a thin barrier between you that you have cultivated, and it will prove useful for the time being. When the fire begins to catch on and warmth starts spreading through the room, you finally turn to him. He is sitting on the quilt, leaning back on his arms, staring at you with those delightfully dark eyes of his. They smolder through the air and force shivers down your spine.
Slowly, you crawl to him, put your hands on his chest, push him back. “Lie down,” you whisper, and the hoarse way your voice lilts with passion has him obeying, if only to hear more of those orders. He’s never cared much for being submissive but there is just something so precarious about it now.
He lies down and you straddle him. Silence serenades you. The only sound is the faint crackling of the fire. The fire, which dances over his features and seems to make his desire stand out so brilliantly. You smile at him and look down at the rest of his body. His jeans are bulging and you know he is probably trying very hard not to reach out for you.
“Touch me,” he tells you, sounding oddly calm. He slowly takes your hands and draws them to his chest, openly inviting your touch. The action has you swallowing back a ruthless wave of warm tenderness and you cheekily murmur, “Well, if you insist…” Moments later, his sweater is on the other side of the room and you’re hovering closer, gently kissing his skin and tracing every muscle.
“Mmm, Cariño,  you know that’s not what I meant…” he chuckles. His fingers curl around your wrists and push them lower, lower, until they’re brushing against the stiffness in his jeans. For someone whose supposed to be acting submissive, Antonio certainly is being pushy. But you don’t mind. You merely tip your head back and give him a playful squeeze, watching the way his eyes flutter closed. The soft little moan that spills from his lips leaves you aching in the most delightful way, and you decide to kill two birds with one stone.
You replace your hands with your hips and roll them against his clothed erection. The movement has Antonio gasping on the ground, eyes wide and filled with honest and very real pleasure. His hands don’t seem to know where to go: they flutter by your hips, grasp your thighs, smooth over your stomach. You stare down at him with so much desire that he feels himself getting harder with every passing moment.
“Is that better?” you ask cheekily, leaning over him. The simple cloth bra you’re wearing brushes against his chest and his eyes flash. Antonio hums out his agreement to your words and reaches up to unhook that bra. The moment it is pushed away, his large hands are gently kneading your breasts, thumbing your nipples, drawing you down so that his lips can go to work on the soft skin.
You moan and breathlessly laugh, “You’re still freezing, Antonio.” The sound of his name, murmured in that way, makes him moan too. He nips playfully at your nipple and laps at it, spinning his tongue around it. At the same time, his hands reach down for your hips and he forces them down against him as he lifts his up to meet you. The clash of friction is so delicious that you can hardly breathe. You can only hover above him, one hand buried in his soft hair, the other grasping the fabric of the quilt as his scent, his touch, his eagerness surrounds you.
“Then warm me up, amante, ” he purrs, bucking his hips into yours again. His erection has the potential to drown you. Even covered by jeans it is so hard, and you can think of only one thing now, one thing that you know you need.
You pull away just a little, just enough to free his lips and to replace them with your own. The kiss is deep, sensual, and makes him moan into your mouth in pleasant surprise. And into it you murmur, “Help me.” The words are an obvious reference to your jeans, one that Antonio does not ignore. The next moment he is pushing them away, hooking his fingers into your panties, and smoothing them off your hips. All the while his kiss drags you down and you melt against his chest.
The moment the jeans are tugged off, you are rolling your hips over him again, and this time the fervent pleasure that it brings make you moan and tilt your head back. The kiss breaks but that’s okay, Antonio has other things on his mind now. He smirks up at the sight you make, pushing your wet core against his erection like that. He can feel the angry heat of your desire pound against him and it makes him rather insane, but he merely hooks his hands behind his head, content to watch for now. It isn’t often that he gets to see your selfish side, not unraveled and daring as it is now.
You lock your eyes with his and slide your hands against his lower abdomen. The tips of your fingers hook into his jeans but you don’t try to remove them. Somehow this makes Antonio’s eyes flash with heat. The slow passion that you demand is bewildering in its potency and he cannot decipher it. But Antonio is rarely able to understand you anyway, and he usually doesn’t try. It suits him just fine for now, though you can’t say the same for yourself.
Your touch shifts to the zipper of his jeans and you slowly tug it down. Antonio watches with careful, dark eyes, as if wondering what you’re really playing at. But you only raise your eyebrows at him cheekily and proceed to pop the button. The layers of clothing are tugged down, just far enough for his erection to spring free. The curled sight of it makes fierce passion rear within you. You stare at it for a long moment before raising your eyes to your lover’s, who is still watching you.
Antonio has pushed himself up onto his elbows. His hair hangs in his face and his lips are parted. His heavy breathing is full of anticipation, but you don’t intend on helping his dilemma yet. That wouldn’t be any fun at all.
Instead, you lean forward, you hands shifting over the tops of his thighs, hips, and sides. You shuffle forward until you’re hovering close to his face, dip your fingers through his soft hair, and draw his head back. He swallows, his Adam’s apple strains, he stares at your mouth and you eyes which have the startling potential to burn him. And when you do kiss him, Antonio can barely restrain himself as the apprehension clashes and grinds into well deserved reprieve.
“Mmm…” he gasps shortly. He returns the kiss with a fervor of unrestrained passion. His large hands clutch your hips and he drags them down. The grinding friction of his core on yours has you moaning with surprise and pleasure. His unexpected, insistent move has immediately consequences, though they all happen to be the good kind. Very good, in fact.
“Antonio,” you drawl, kissing him firmly before ducking your mouth away from his. His head falls back and he pants, his heavy breathing gasping and only getting worse as you kiss over his neck. Your tongue makes him feel flushed and too-hot, like his body is nearing some obscure melt down that will both ruin and renew him.
You nip playfully on his collar and murmur, “You’ve gotten really hard. Does that mean you want me very badly?” He swallows thickly at the tone of your voice and chuckles, a hoarse, breathless sound. His response is a simple but effective roll of his hips, and you moan lightly as his hard length once more steals your breath away.
You’re kissing him with that dire passion moments later and Antonio is wholeheartedly kissing you back. The floodgates have opened. You are eager to feel more of him and you don’t have the patience to tease him any longer. It seems that Antonio is in the same boat and is all too happy to accommodate, and when you push him into you soon after you both melt with relief.
Antonio melts all the way to the floor. He lowers himself back down and drags you with him. The position gives him more strength, and he lifts his hips into yours with such delightful fervor that you can hardly even breathe. Instead you drown, sink into him, and let the undercurrent of the pleasure pull you under.
Your hips move in sync with his and it is beautiful. Antonio clutches at your waist but he doesn’t guide you. You know what you’re doing and he wouldn’t change one bit of it. The pleasure that sears through his body is like no other, the extent of which cannot be seen or heard or felt.
“Eso es todo…sigue adelante…!”  Antonio cries, his head pushing back into the quilt. Other Spanish mumbles spill into the air and against your skin. You soak them up, thrust ever faster, roll your hips and grind them into his teasingly. Antonio blinks up at you through the haze of his passion and then suddenly chuckles. You have about three seconds to bask in the confusion of it all before he is catching your wrists, hooking his leg around you, and rolling you over with surprising energy.
The shock that stems from this motion leaves you docile. Antonio takes full advantage of this and proceeds to pin your wrists above your head. He settles into your core once more, pushing his cock as far into you as he can, and watches the way your eyes flutter and your body melts. He chuckles again, leaning down close to your face, and murmurs, “I can’t let mi amante have all the fun.” The very brief explanation has you rolling your eyes and opening your mouth to respond, but you never get the chance.
Antonio kisses you, muffling your words and surprising you yet again. But this surprise is by no means bad, and you find yourself smiling a little bit as he presses you against the quilt. Your legs tighten around his waist and you rise up to meet his thrusts, letting the pleasure once again settle within you, but not for very long.
Your orgasm is fast and fierce, spurred on by the murmured, lilting Spanish that is pressed into your skin and against your mouth. Antonio rushes forward as you fall, clutching at him and moaning a deeply lustful, “Antonio!” The sound of his name has him grinding his teeth together and burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He is soon following after you. As your hips tilt up and your finish slows, Antonio’s builds up and breaks. He pants, thrusts harder, pushing your arching hips forcefully down. The dominating movement makes your purr with pleasure. You run your fingers through his hair and he lays his head on your chest with a heaving, satisfied sigh. He stays like that, inside you, for several minutes more.
And then, Antonio chuckles. You glance down at him with raised eyebrows, and he pulls himself up to hover over you. His eyes sparkle brightly with amusement. You brush a finger over his cheekbone and whisper, “What’s so funny?” You don’t expect his response, but you find that his amusement is rather contagious.
“Ice skating. We were pretty awful, weren’t we?” His eyes flash as you smile, and he adds a sly, “Especially when you nearly knocked over that little boy – “ You cut him off with a well-placed hit to his shoulder and a laugh. A laugh which he soon shares.
“Let’s never do that again,” you say with a cheeky grin. Your lover hums and lays his head back down upon your chest. You resume shifting your fingers through his hair. “Agreed,” he mumbles at you, giving you a playful little squeeze.
Beside you the fire crackles and its light stretches to encompass the two lovers, tangled together like lovers ought to be, skin to skin and hearts bared.
 Mi amor … My love
 Cariño … Sweetheart
 amante … lover
 Eso es todo…sigue adelante … That’s it…keep going…!