Spain was a man of passion, no doubt, but sometimes, that passion can be meant in the wrong way. He always told himself that he was a passionate country full of rich history and strong morals, but now, none of that even comprehends to his thoughts. All the past thoughts of being the nice, gentle country were thrown into the wind when the people started to turn on themselves. It was too painful for him to watch, so he hid away, thinking he could just hide from the problem. Consequently, he started to change as well. With the people growing evil, tainted hearts, he couldn't help but start to feel the same emotions clouding his sense of ration. But, he couldn't say it was all that bad of a transformation; it made him feel more powerful and in charge. He liked the dark feeling of having ultimate control, as well as being able to receive anything he wants with a simple threat. His passion was no longer about keeping his history alive and the people happy, no, his new passion was to make others suffer, just as he had done so many times. Now, he did want to make her suffer, but he didn't want to kill her. His heart longed for her; there was not a chance that he could ever kill something as precious as her. Sure they were friends already, but it wasn't enough to slake his torrid desire for her touch, her kiss, her beautiful skin, her love. The brown haired man sighed contently as he rubbed the dark proof of restlessness under his eyes, his hair messier than normal. Usually he would have cared about his hygiene and combed his dark locks, but today that wasn't the priority on his mind. As he made his way downstairs, clad in a baggy shirt and shorts, he saw the certain Italian sitting at the table impatiently, a feast of a breakfast already spread out for the two. Romano was always a good cook when he got up early to make breakfast. He picked up a single churro and took a bite of it, a soft moan leaving his lips at the sensation in his mouth. He then swallowed and turned to the coffee mug next to him, seeing a caramel colored liquid in it: expresso. He then took a swig of the concentrated drink, sighing contently. Romano's golden eyes widened slightly in surprise; he had often threatened things like this, but he had never wanted to actually take actions. Romano knew sometimes people went through stages of change, but that was usually for the better. ~ Romano's hands shook lightly as his knuckles rasped against the wooden door. He was almost afraid of what was going to happen to you; he knew Spain was going to be frank with his feelings, but what kind of actions would he take? Would he use violence? Perhaps that quality was to blame for Spain's obsessiveness. Suddenly worry filled your heart; he usually hugged you back. When your eyes landed on his, you noticed how dull they seemed. You almost instantly responded. After you slipped them, you ran to your bathroom, combing your color hair and fixing your makeup a bit. Afterwards, you made your way back to Romano. You were truly worried for your Spanish friend and for Romano to request for help was a perfect indication that something was genuinely awry. The hour long ride in the car was very silent, and uncomforting as it dragged on. You attempted to ask the Italian about what was wrong with Spain; though, he answered that he hadn't a clue and dropped the subject like a block of lead. This worried you even more. As the red Italian made care pulled into the dirt driveway of Spain, you could see that things weren't very healthy. The vines around the metal gate were a dying yellow color instead of a natural, flourishing emerald color; the grass was very similar. Romano led you passed the gate and to the front double-doors, where he opened them and cautiously stepped into the large mansion-like house. Instantly the warmth flooded your body, the smell of Spanish herbs and spices flooding your nose. It smelt so warm and welcoming. Your eyes snapped towards the kitchen, witnessing him emerge from behind a wall, a white apron tied around his form, splotched with red and yellow colored foods. You were about to greet him with a hug, but stopped when you saw his shark-like grin. You were frozen, your stomach flipping and growing uneasy as he swiftly made his way closer to you. When he was within arm's reach, he reached down, grasping your hand softly, and bent at the waist to bring his dried, chapped lips to your skin. Chills trickled down your back as the hair on your arms stood on end. Romano suddenly grew uneasy, and gave you a small nod before also turning on his heel and making his way up a set of stairs, most likely to the bathroom. The kitchen was large, with granite counter tops and a good sized island in the middle. Normal kitchen appliances littered the walls, the ingredients he was using in his churro recipes still lying along the counters. He seemed to have been working very quickly. Eyes wandering more, you saw the large pot of steaming grease where the batter was deep fried. Gingerly, you took the treat from his fingers, the heat warming your skin up quickly. Cautiously, for it was still warm, you slowly brought the end of the churro to your open mouth, using your teeth to bite down on the fresh dough. When you found it wasn't hot enough to burn your mouth and tongue, you pulled it away, breaking off the dough and letting the part in your mouth fall onto your tongue, the sugar and cinnamon scattering amongst your taste buds. Unbeknownst to you, the curly haired Spaniard licked his chapped lips at your technique of eating the churro; it gave him an idea. You nodded quickly, telling him just how good it tasted. His low voice made his words sound much like other words, so you asked him to clarify. Hearing his odd voice, your eyes snapped up to his; instantly your body froze. You felt like you were looking straight into the eyes of a famished lion, and you were the gazelle. His eyes were no longer bright emerald, but darkened, shadowed by his hair as his chin was beginning to tuck under his face. Something glinted in them, and they were glazed over. You could tell by the way his shoulders rose and fell unevenly, his fists clenching and unclenching, that was something was very wrong. There was no answer except the sound of his bare feet quickly stepping on the linoleum as he briskly walked towards you, a malicious grin on his lips. Don't you want to eat it before it gets hard? His hand snapped towards the churro you had just dropped on the counter, and gripped it tightly in his left hand. You were about to ask him what had gotten into him, but the only sound that escaped your lips was the sound of a squeak as Spain's strong hand gripped your cheeks, his fingers gripping under your cheek while his thumb pressed under your ear, forcing your mouth open in pain. He then shoved the churro into your mouth; however, you grabbed onto it and tore it from his hands, throwing it onto the floor before your sugar coated hands gripped his wrist desperately. Your eyes began to water in fear as you looked back into Spain's eyes. A mix of hurt and shock crossed his face as he looked down at the churro. You began to think perhaps he had realized what he did. However, your thoughts were crushed as his eyebrows furrowed, a sneer making its way next to his frown. His face suddenly came close to yours, his hot breath against your nose, his lips forming a forced smile. Suddenly his foot appeared on the back of your knee, hitting it forcefully as his free hand made its way to your shoulder. With that, he forced you to your knees. Instantly, you came face to face with a large indent in his jeans, the bulge unable to go unnoticed. You were replied by his throaty, husky chuckling. Then the hand on your shoulder left, followed by the sound of a zipper unzipping. You shook your head, fearful of what was about to happen; you then closed your color eyes tightly, pursing your lips, as his free hand traveled down his tanned lower abdomen. How could he act so casual about what he was doing? And just how painful was he talking about? The hand on your jaw clenched tightly, attempting to force your jaw apart so that he could have access to your mouth. You shook your head, your bangs brushing your face, and you breathed heavily through your nose. You could also hear his heavy breathing through his mouth, his hand growing warm and sweaty. Or are you that kind of girl? Out of reaction, you could feel your gag reflexes activating, your hands flashing up to his hips, your palm pressing against the denim. You tried to force his hips back, closing your eyes again. You could feel it, the soft skin, and you hated it. You felt disgusting, especially the moment Spain released an animalistic groan. His fingers started at your hairline, digging under your hair and intertwining with your locks until his palm was on the top of your head, your hair pushed back away from your face. Spain's lips curled into a toothy grin as his hand began to twitch in anticipation. Suddenly, his hand put pressure on the back of your head, forcing your mouth farther down onto the Spanish man. He released another groan, gripping your hair at your scalp and pulling back until you were nearly at the end. Bracing yourself, you stiffened your neck as Spain forced your head once again down on his length. He repeated his action multiple times, increasing his speed and the force his hand used on your head. You could hear his breathing laboring again, breathy groans leaving his throat more often as he began to near his end, his heart throbbing wildly at the sensation. It was becoming too much for you; you could feel tears pricking the edge of your eyes. Suddenly he pulled away, pulling completely out as his breathing filled the air. Cautiously, your opened your glistening eyes to his tanned face, seeing his cheeks flushed and his eyebrows furrowed tightly; there were even a few beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes then slowly opened, looking straight into yours. Your eyes widened as he straightened, hooking his fingers on his denim as he quickly shimmied out of them. You looked away, wrapping your arms around your chest. You didn't want him to see you, or continue in his activities with you. However, he had other plans; impatiently, his hands found the hem of your shirt and tries to rip it over your head, pushing your arms out of the way so that he could wrestle it over your head. You protested, slapping him and attempting to kick him. Growing tired, Spain grabbed you by the shoulders and shoved you down onto the cold tile floor, your head nearly hitting the wooden cupboards as he did. Would he actually go as far as to take your innocence? A deep growl erupted from his throat, his hands grabbing onto your jeans tightly, pinching the skin underneath, and causing you to cry out at the pain. He simply ignored your malcontent and continued to yank the clothing down roughly, bringing it down to your knees before he needed to scoot back, yanking them down to your ankles while you twisted and reached for the legs of the nearby chair. You could feel the pants leave your feet, leaving you nearly bare, save for your undergarments. You grabbed onto the chair just as Spain crawled back over your body, clutching you by the elbows and wrenching your hands away from the wood. Your back was forced against the floor once again, your head aimed at the ceiling, your eyes meeting emerald green orbs. The orbs burrowed into your own, sneaking a momentary glance downward to your chest before snapping back up to your color eyes. Your brows furrowed in worry as you nodded quickly. Reacting quickly, you covered your chest with your hands, cheeks flaring as your heart beat madly against your ears. Spain's eyes once again traveled south, his toothy grin never wavering. Do you wish to keep them intact? You nodded, biting your tongue. You couldn't say no, or else he would rip them. And you didn't want to fight back for you were fearful of just how villainous he could get if he was enraged enough. Closing your eyes, you felt the elastic of your undies peel down your legs, eventually reaching your ankles then toes, and finally completely gone. You felt so exposed, so weak, so strange. Spain crawled up your body, his hands sneaking under your legs as they moved up. As they did, your legs were lifted in sync with his moving body. When he finally stopped above your body, his hands on either side of your chest, your legs were hiked up so that your knees were against his sides. What you saw was a grinning Spain, his eyes more glazed over and dilated than you had ever seen. His breathing was still ragged, and the way his hips were shaking as well put fear into your heart. Slowly, his hips descended until his stiff member met what it had been waiting for, and didn't waste a single second. Like a crazed dog searching for a dog in heat, Spain released an animalistic groan of satisfaction as his hips rolled down, effectively burrowing himself deep within your body, his skin on his hips pressing against yours. You bit your tongue harshly, a muffled scream vibrating your lips as your eyes closed tightly in tears. The pain was uncomfortable, but it strangely wasn't enough to call unbearable. Though you sobbed lightly, you believed it was more because of the shock of your long-time friend doing this to you. Gently, Spain's lips brushed against your cheeks, the tears catching on his dried lips, his hot breath on your skin causing the hair on your arms to rise. Your hands found his bare shoulders, clutching tightly as your body shook lightly. Before you could fully adjust, Spain began to roll his hips again, his breathing matching his hips. When he would roll forward, he would breathe out, and when he rolled back, he sucked in air graciously. You groaned at the immense feeling, your fingers digging into his tanned skin. At your silence, he increased his speeds, thrusting his hips farther into your body. Your tongue began to feel numb, so you let your tongue free in favor for your bottom lip. Your body was rocked back and forth on the cold linoleum floor, slipping slightly as your lower back began to grow clammy from sweat. Small whimpers erupted from your throat as his movements became ruthless, his actions only to please himself; his level of attention towards your own well-being was near nonexistent. However, you could feel something in the pit of your stomach that started to develop, the feeling of something tightening within your lower abdominal area. A deep groan vibrated the Spaniard's slightly hairy chest as he tucked his chin, his actions suddenly seizing as he removed himself swiftly. The sudden absence caused another whimper to escape your lips, the feeling in your stomach seeming to tighten even harder, signals shooting through to your brain alerting you that you couldn't stand much more. Then, he used his right arm, sliding it under your top right leg, and once again moving his hands towards the top of your body, lifting your leg into an intimate position as his body hovered above yours; his chest barely touched your arm. Then, he aligned himself once again, pushing into you quickly. You gasped, your hands grasping onto the floor for some sort of stability. Before another breath could escape, he was resuming his previous speed of thrusting. The new angle was extreme for you, your mouth gaping open as panting gasps escaped; he was deeper than before, and the way his hips rolled seemed to just miss that perfect spot by millimeters, sending you so close to the edge of pleasure. Every time you thought he would finally hit that spot and get it over with, he would just brush it, leaving you in need. Why couldn't he just get it over with already? Desperate and nearing release, you tilted your hips a bit, causing another groan to escape the culprit's throat. Finally, he was hitting that spot, sending your mind to a fuzzy wonderland, spots appearing in your vision as they danced around at a million miles an hour. And he knew it by the moans he impatiently waited from you. So, he used the last of his strength to bring himself to his own end. Suddenly the moaning and gasping ended, being replaced by a silent cry, your body racking in shivers and shudders. He could feel the muscles contracting around him, causing his head to snap backward as he rolled only two more times before his own body shook violently, an elongated groan leaving his barely parted lips. Spain's eyes were closed tightly as he slowly rode out his release, his mind clouded with ecstasy and satisfaction. He had waited so long to finally claim you as his, and now he finally had the chance to make you nothing but his. And he would make sure you and every other person knew it was well, and his teeth sought out your neck, where he left copious amounts of love bites. Now you were officially his, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He was slightly disappointed about your unwillingness, but it wasn't the first time he had to use violence to get his way in the end. And in the end, you would submit to his power and love, he was sure of it. He was also sure of Romano's hate when he gave him the orders to clean the kitchen when he was finished.
