notes & disclaimers - i do not own hetalia axis powers in any shape or form.

warnings - sexual situations. ;)

shipping - spain/romano.

heat of the moment.

Romano cried out as Spain touched him sensually, in that one spot . . . Spain purred his ear, "Hola, my dear gracias . . . "

"Oh, Spain! Mi Google translate, ah!" Romano begged, with smoldering lustful orbs, insert a comparison to tomatoes to his face here. "I just . . . oh, Yahoo translate-o . . . I just . . . Oh!"

Spain took off his pants to reveal Romano's thick, lucious tomato, and looked at the brunette, as if asking for permission.

The boy nodded eagerly. "P - please, amore . . ."

Spain was turned on immensely by this, but he liked foreplay, and decided to wait it out a bit.

The taller, dark-haired man nipped at the boy's neck, "Hola, dome uh beso . . . "

Then he pressed up against Romano, hot but still wanting to stay in control. Romano's brown eyes filled with need, and he opened his mouth to say more, but instead just left it open; Spain told him to shut it because he had taught him manners but Romano simply cried out once more in need . . . "My ciao - please - please - frolic my amore!"

"Who does the commands in this, my hola?" Spain asked, sensually.

"You! You, ciao-ito . . ." Romano said in defeat.

Spain smiled in satisfaction and rewarded Romano with an hola-ful hola. He only moaned louder.

"Eat my churro!" Romano moaned, grinding against him like a meat grinder. That was a disgusting, un-hola-ful metaphor, and I should be ashamed of myself.

"I already ate it." Spain whispered. "It was just laying there lonely in the holaful fridge and I - "

"No, not the pastry!" Romano hissed. "The ciao, amore."

"What - oh, I see, my hola; you mean your penis."

"That's sick, Spain. That is just sick." Romano got up and put his clothes back on. "I am leaving. Goodbye."

"But hola!" Spain screamed in agony, tripping over his pants and on to his penis. "I hola you!"

"I never ciao'd you." Romano said angrily, and left in a fit of amore.