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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Nov 25, 2012 11:26:08 GMT -5
All I Want is YouA Seychelles Honeymoon
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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Nov 25, 2012 20:28:32 GMT -5
The journey to Seychelles was a long one, or at least it was supposed to be. But traveling with Spain, with the man's sunny chatter filling his ear, and Spain's soft warm hands clasping France's, made the journey not only bearable but downright pleasurable. All the while, his heart was all a flutter, and Francis found it difficult, again, to look at Spain for too long. If he did, he would be gripped with such intense waves of love that he would have to look away, tears of joy clinging to his eyelashes. Thus, he spent most of their travels clinging quietly to Spain's arm in uncharacteristic silence. He basked in their newly forged bond, entwining their fingers together and smiling serenely.
The two finally arrived upon the island, which was awash with white sand and clear blue waters, and their bags were immediately ushered away and into the immense white-walled hotel.
France eagerly padded down the elegant corridors, arm in arm with Spain, and into their romantic suite. The bed, fitted with fresh, good smelling satin linens, was adorned with soft rose petals. The large window on the far right wall was open to the ocean breeze, and there were two chilled wine bottles waiting for them on the ivory night stand.
Throwing down his things in irrepressible excitement, France inspected every nook and cranny of the room.
"Mon Dieu! Would you look at zis, mon amour? Eet es beautiful, non? Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! I never want to leave! Honhon!"
He perched on the edge of the bed, gazing round at everything and finally lifting his eyes to appraise his lover. He leaned alluringly into the pillows, feeling his intense love for Spain transmogrify into unbridled lust.
"Spaaaaaaain," he whispered, beckoning Antonio closer. "Won't you... join moi?" He batted his eyes in a practiced, tempting manner.
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Post by Thor Odinson on Dec 6, 2012 17:19:22 GMT -5
The arrived at Seychelles faster than Spain had thought they would. During their trip he found himself full of an energy that manifested itself into what anyone else might deem useless chatter. But France seemed perfectly content to listen to him as he carried on about any and everything that came to his mind. France's hands were warm, soft, and reassuring in his. Once in a while had leaned in nuzzle close to France, and bask in the warmth and light that was them.
Walking through the corridors of the impressive hotel, Spain found himself in awe-- it was all so maravilloso! But it was their suite that took his breath away. Not that he was unused to such luxury; France was a man of luxury and grandeur after all. Its elegance and beauty was just of a different caliber and deserved to be admired.
He watched France as he examined the room, setting his own bags down and taking a small walk around the room to get a good view of it himself. His eyes alighted on the bottles of wine sitting on the night stand and walked over to them, expertly relieving one bottle of its cork.
He turned towards France, who had made himself comfortable among the pillows of the bed. Spain knew that look in France's eyes, and a knowing smile lit up his face. Of course, mi amor. He poured a small bit of wine into each glass before joining France on the bed, holding out a glass for him. We should have a little toast, no? Being this close to France, finally alone together after they had given themselves over to each other, he found himself in just complete need and want of his newly dubbed husband. Glass of wine held securely in his hand, he leaned forward, lightly cupping France's chin and pressing their lips together in a kiss that was all heat and passion.
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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Jan 6, 2013 1:19:14 GMT -5
This moment, a thing of fairy-tales and beauteous dreams-- seemed collected in France's consciousness like an amalgamation of both those things. The world seemed, all of a sudden, more lovely, more pleasing, more colorful than in any other moment before. It was as if, before this moment, when Spain pressed his lips against France's, that France had been living in a world of all veiled gray, of shadows and fog, and that he had not lived until now.
Finally, intimately joined with Spain, France discovered irrepressible and undeniable truth-- Antonio was his one and only, Antonio was his beginning and end; this was love. This easy state of existence, this comfortable, forgiving warmth. This love, given so freely, was a salve to Francis.
He drained his wine, then quickly abandoned his glass on the nightstand and wrapped his arms around Antonio's neck.
"I don't need zis," he sighed wistfully. "I don't need wine. I want to become drunk weeth somezhing... quite different." With this, he pulled Antonio closer to him as if willing his husband to fall into him, to meld with him. He wanted nothing between them; he wanted to hold and kiss his Antonio until there was nothing of himself left.
"Antonio..." he breathed, "I want you to know zat... I adore you. J'adore! Zere will never, ever be anyone else. Et now... I want to show you just 'ow devoted I am to you. I will do anyzhing zat you ask of me. Oui?" He seductively peeled off his clothes, exposing himself completely to Spain, opening himself to every touch, every kiss, every look. He whispered hotly in Antonio's ear, "What will you 'ave moi do first?"
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