Tuesday, July 12, 2011

A Spain Lemon -- The Art of Being Spanish

Character: Spain

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

OC: Brigida Vargas, Sicily, Age 21, part of the Mafia

Inspiration: A Spanish version of Pepé le Pew XD

It was rather cramped in the room, but unfortunately there was nothing to be done about it. Brigida didn’t much enjoy being thrown into a moving car and hauled to some lame party, you see. She had to practically beat France away from her with the handle of her gun, and even then the country just wouldn’t leave her alone. (Something about her ‘rejoining’ him again.)

After spending a entire hour searching for someone deserving of her company – and a less dangerous but still effective weapon to defend herself with – Brigida had finally decided that it was a waste. There wasn’t really anybody she wanted to hang out with anyway, and only other girls were either far to soft spoken (Lily), or way too insane (Belarus). Eventually she just ended up pressed against the wall, as though trying to blend in with the off-white paint. Needless to say, it wasn’t working. At all.

How someone like Bigida could blend in, nobody knew. She was loud and obnoxious at her best, and seemed to have a talent for making anyone who spoke to her look like a fool. Which was why only the most brave of heart even dared. (Plus, she was downright scary with that gun latched forever to her belt.)

“Mi tomate!”

Oops. Bigida cringed in a fear of her own. It seemed that she had only one weakness, and the source of said calamity was what shocked most of the other countries. Quick as anything, Brigida flew from the wall and began racing away. Unfortunately for her, a swift arm stopped her as it wrapped around her abdomen, and she was abruptly pulled into a warm chest.

“Aww, mi tomate was trying to run away, wasn’t she?” a voice cooed in her ear. Her complexion paled dramatically as the other arm wrapped itself around her. She was immediately and affectionately thrust farther into the warm chest as a nose began nuzzling her neck. “Mmmhmm! Mi tomate shouldn’t be so afraid of me,” he purred, nipping at her ear. A squeal left her lips before she could stop it, and the noise had Spain chuckling lowly.

Thankfully, before Spain could do anymore damage to her poor nerves, dinner was called. He sighed and slowly extricated his limbs from their hold, taking his sweet time. Brigida was quick to finish what she so desired to do: run away. A moment later, she was no where in sight.

Another amused chuckle tore through Spain’s throat. He loved it when she played this particular game. From beside him, France pouted, “Mon ami, how do you do it?”

The man on Spain’s other side laughed heartily. With a sweep of his silver hair, Prussia muttered, “The question is when are you gonna do it? I think you deserve a nice lay.”

Spain grinned and shrugged. Together, the three began walking toward the dining room. A smirk played on his lips, “Tonight’s the night.” Another sharp grin, “Whether Mi Tomate likes it or not~”

Before entering the room, Prussia chuckled, “Kinky.”

France merely rolled his eyes.

// Dinner //

Dinner was a hazardous affair at best. Even though the conversation was anything but dangerous, the man who was the bane of Brigida’s existence always seemed to have something to say...and that something was usually either completely embarrassing, or utterly perverted. (And, to add to her problems, he had to be sitting right next to her. Her luck was obviously exceptional.)

If that wasn’t enough, Spain wasn’t just a verbal character, he was also a physical one, which why Brigida was feeling rather cornered even though she was surrounded by so many people.

America was busy prattling on about some new ‘awesome plan’ and how it was going to ‘save our planet from the evils of pollution’ when Brigida felt it first. She had just lifted her glass to her lips and was enjoying her dinner as much as she could when she suddenly choked on her ice water. The hand on her upper thigh gave her an amused squeeze.

She shot a glare at Spain, who was undoubtedly the one behind this, and was about to say something when England spoke up, “Are you quite alright, Miss Sicily?”

His green eyes were concerned, but Brigida couldn’t focus on him. Her glaring eyes didn’t leave Spain’s grinning face, “Yes. Quite alright.” And then America spoke up again with another plan that would ‘blow everyone away’.

As soon as everyone’s attention was turned pointedly away from the duo, Brigida hissed, “Remove your hand from my thigh.” Her voice was coated with annoyance and disgust, but instead of making Spain frightened like it was meant to, he merely grinned widely and shrugged.

“Aw, but Mi Tomate has such a supple pair of legs – “ he groaned painfully when Brigida stomped on his foot to silence him. Needless to say, it didn’t work. “If you would only allow me to satiate my hunger I would stop – “ This time, he didn’t bother hiding the grunt of pain, and received many weary glances from other countries.

“Ah, what can I do?” Spain muttered mournfully, finally taking back his hand. He sniffled in a self-depreciating way – probably thinking it would force some sort of reacting from Brigida – and began stabbing his fork into a meatball. “Love hurts.”

The comment nearly made Brigida snap her own fork in half. She turned a sneer his way and ignored the anime tears that ran down his face.

It was about fifteen minutes later before Antonio tried anything else on Brigida. This time, America didn’t have the floor. (But he was helping himself to third helping of Hamburger Casserole...England would let him bring in actual Hamburgers, you see.) Germany was busy reading from a long list of things that needed fixing, while the other countries nodded sleepily over their half eaten meals. Italy was the only one who seemed to be listening attentively...but there was still that ever present dazed look in his honeyed eyes.

Brigida ignored everyone and reached for her wine glass. That was what she needed right now: a little bit of that bitterly sweet liquid to keel her over. Span watched with predatory lust as she brought it to her desirous lips. His fingers twitched when she tilted her head slightly back, revealing her neck to his hungry eyes. His pants tightened when the glass came back, and her lips remained wetted by the crimson liquid. Tonight had to be the night.

He wanted to just peel her clothes off and throw them away. He wanted to look at her body without any hindrance whatsoever...completely sink into the promises of love. Because that’s what it was, after all, even though Brigida didn’t realize. Sure he was lustful, and so turned on that it felt painful...but he was also utterly in love with her. So much so that it was even more painful that the erection he was sporting between his legs.

His fingers ghosted over her knees and up her stockings. He ignored her when she threw him another irritated glare, and slide a sly hand beneath her blue dress. He wanted to peel those stockings off and feel her skin. Giving her a light, playful squeeze, Antonio grinned and picked up his fork. To everyone else around the table, he looked completely innocent. (Save, of course, for his two closest friends as they sent smirks his way. They had to admit that he was skilled.)

Brigida didn’t know what she should do. She didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to herself, but she also didn’t want Spain taking advantage of her hesitation...which she knew he would do given the chance. Gritting her teeth, she allowed his fingers to pry beneath her dress, trying vainly to decide on a course of action. She didn’t want to admit it, but with his fingers to close to her core, it was rather difficult to concentrate.

She didn’t think he’d actually do it...not right here, anyway, when everyone was around them. But when he reached her panties, Antonio didn’t hesitate before he dipped his fingers against her heat. A small gasp left her lips at the feel. Her mind was buzzing, and though she felt betrayed by her own passion, she yearned for him to continue. It was like a forbidden art that every Spaniard seemed to know: the unknowing seduction, complete and utter compliance. Brigida silently cursed it.

Spain was a bit surprised at said compliance, but he certainly didn’t complain. Smirking vividly over his food, he rubbed her harder, feeling wetness pool excitedly at her opening. He swallowed thickly and dearly wanted to take this elsewhere. His pants were getting unbearably tight, and he didn’t know how long his concentration would allow him. (He felt like jumping her bones right then and there, regardless of who was watching.)

His finger dipped into the fabric, pushing it into her with a little thrust. He felt himself get harder at the breathy little gasp that left her lips. Oh, how he wanted to kiss that mouth! He wanted to do so much more than what he was doing right now, actually. His mind began calculating the nearest room with a lock, and how long it would take them to get there...and how they would escape the company of the other countries.

For Brigida, that magical little fingers was quickly drawing her nearer and nearer to release. She’d never been this turned on before, but she had a feeling it was due to the current situation. Everyone around them, not realizing what was going on just beneath the table...it was all so dangerous. Brigida couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

Spain knew Brigida was nearing her end, and he wanted to watch her as she came. His gaze was transfixed to her face, studying the dilated way her eyes roved the room, and her sweaty brow. It was a beautiful sight, but he wanted to see her entire body when she came, not just a fraction of it. Forcing himself, he abruptly pulled his fingers from her crotch. He sent her a dizzying smirk when she turned questionably to him.

It seemed like ages before the dinner was finally over, and Brigida was desperately in need of a release. Her insides were still pounding with the tantalizing memory of his finger, and it was taking all her self control not to grab him and force him to comply to her wishes. (She didn’t think it would be that hard, considering the obvious erection he was sporting.)

The two lingered at the table while everyone else piled out into the sitting room for after dinner tea and conversation. Just as soon as the last person was gone, Antonio turned to Brigida, expecting a slap. But all he got was a firm grab to his collar and a pair of lips pressing hard against his. He grunted in surprise, but was quick to respond.

“Ahhh...Mi Tomate as finally given in – “ she deepened the kiss to shut him up, and then glared at him.

“You got me into this mess, now get me out of it!”

Spain nearly shivered at the lust coating her voice. He hummed and wrapped his arms snugly around her waist, kissing up her jaw and pecking her lips, “If you insist, Mi Tomate~” And then, he dragged her off to the nearest room with the lock. He was lucky that the other countries were already gone.

Extended Ending

Tea and conversation was a boring affair at best. America sighed and pushed his teacup farther away from him, ignoring the glower that England sent him.

The loud groans and pounds coming from two rooms over echoed through the silent sitting room.

“I wish I was having as much fun as Spain and Sicily~” America pouted.

...England glowered harder. The next moment, America was sporting a large bump on his head.



  1. lol america! i luv the ending! it fits! there fun is 'awesome!'

    could you please make more for france? (he's amazing, i don't get why he's not that popular)

    my email is animegirl663@hotmail.com

  2. I completely adore Spain :3 He's precious. I have to say, you're the only writer I will read from online. You're amazing, and really good work! :D

  3. Can I just say.. Have a motherfucking cookie!!!!!!!

  4. Could you make a canada and a spain baby daddy? Or a romano one! They seem like absolutely epic parents! My email is nerdybirdy4202@gmail.com