#argmex

Usted tranquilo y yo nerviosa cielito ¡Pasele con confianza como si fuera su casa!

Y ahí le va un ArgMex dedicado pa' usted 🫶🏿

Aquí la relación de Argentina y México es de esos amigos que se llevan SUPER pesado pero están ahí el uno para el otro. Levantarlo cuando se cae después de burlarse y decirse la verdad en la cara aunque sea crudo para después estar como si nada.

1.- Está inspirado en el tango Argentino, con la canción de "Por una cabeza - Carlos Gardel" (no puedo dejar de escuchar la instrumental, es demasiado adictiva y emotiva)

3 horas después

"And you Messi... YOU SHOULD THINK THAT DIEGO (Maradona) IS WATCHING YOU FROM UP THERE!" 😇

"Or from down there..." 😈

Mexico was scarcely through the door before Argentina picked him up like he weighed nothing and threw him down on the bed. He wasn’t sure if the door had even been closed, but he didn’t care particularly. The whole country could hear him moaning for all he cared. 

Argentina immediately descended upon him and kissed him deeply. Mexico moaned happily against his lips. He felt the man’s rough hands roaming over his hips. Argentina hooked one thumb into Mexico’s waistband and pulled his pants off in a single smooth motion. 

Mexico pressed his face into the kiss and reached up to put his hand in Argentina’s damp curls. Argentina’s voice sounded hoarse as he said in Mexico’s ear, “I’ve been looking forward to this all month.” 

The strain in his voice spoke to how hard the game had been. Mexico chuckled and asked, “Winning or fucking me?” There was a sparkle in the man’s beautiful brown eyes as he said, “Both. Getting my trophy and you.” 

He pressed his lips to Mexico’s neck and sucked on the skin. Mexico could feel the teeth methodically working a mark into his skin because Argentina loved to mark him up. Mexico said, between little moans, “I always knew that you would win. I could feel that it was your year.”

Argentina released his neck and said with a laugh, “You liar. I am sure you told Isabel the same thing.” Mexico smirked and countered, “You’re just jealous.” 

A strong hand grabbed his butt to affirm his claim. He said, before laying another kiss on Mexico’s neck, “I’m not jealous. I won, didn’t I? You’re wearing my shirt, aren’t you? Isabel can get as angry as she wants about that.” 

He slipped his hand under the oversized jersey that he was wearing. His skilled fingers found a nipple and caressed it teasingly, making Mexico writhe. He knew that Argentina was enjoying watching. 

He nodded. 

Yes, he was wearing the shirt from their game against each other. And he had a feeling that it was not going to come off because Argentina loved the look of him in the sky blue. 

Argentina kissed him again, pulling on his lower lip with his teeth. Mexico blindly grasped around with his hands trying to pull off his shorts. Argentina chuckled, “Aw, you’re so eager.” Mexico growled back, “You’ve been teasing me for days! Don’t you act coy now!”

Argentina chuckled again and reached over Mexico’s head towards the bedside table. Mexico craned his neck to see what he was reaching for. The expanse of exposed neck gave Argentina a chance to work on another hickey while he deftly grabbed a bottle of lubricant from wherever he had been keeping it. 

He said, “I am going to give you what you want then.” 

He leaned back only long enough to apply a generous amount of lubricant to his fingers. Mexico felt his heart pounding at the way Argentina bit his lower lip and looked at him like he was an incredibly tasty meal.

It only took a moment before the man was pressing his fingers into him. Mexico arched his back and groaned at how good it felt after the building anticipation of the final half hour of the game. Argentina’s fingers moved slowly and carefully. He’d have enough practice to know exactly what he needed to do. 

Mexico loved the way that it felt when those well-practiced fingers hit the right spots. He groaned gladly, and said, “Go even deeper.” Argentina ran his tongue over his ear before saying, “Patience, kitten. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” 

He squeezed Mexico’s hip bone with his free hand as he worked diligently. He said, in a tone dripping in mockery, “You know how big I am. You wouldn’t want to be hurt, would you?” 

Mexico rolled his eyes and replied, “I can take it you arrogant-“ His next word died in his throat as Argentina stroked a spot that sent pleasure up his spine.

Once he regained his voice he said, “I can take you.” The smirk that appeared on Argentina’s face sent another thrill through him, as did the intentionally cool, “As you wish.” 

Then Argentina looped both of his arms under Mexico’s legs and pushed them up. Mexico felt the other press into him much more slowly than he had done after their match. It felt like he was being careful, and for once Mexico was glad for his hesitation. 

The slow stretch made him certain that he would not bleed, and it would not hurt. Argentina pressed in very slowly, with a look of careful concentration. Once he was all the way in, he purred, “How does that feel?” 

Mexico answered obediently, “So good. So full.” 

He couldn’t think of a better word for exactly how stuffed he felt with the other buried deep in him. It was a comfortable, pleasurable fullness. 

Argentina kissed him and said, “You took it perfectly. And you look so beautiful.”

Then he started his first thrust by slowly pulling out and pushed back in. Mexico felt the moan rumble out of his throat at how good it felt. Argentina joined their lips again, swallowing Mexico’s moan as his thrust hit the right spot. 

The languid pace did not last. Argentina immediately sped up, pushing deeper with each thrust. Mexico let himself moan freely and loudly with each thrust. Argentina kissed down his neck and over his collarbones. 

As he leaned closer to kiss him, he pushed Mexico’s knees up towards his shoulders, making ample use of the man’s flexibility. The tilt of his hips was making it even easier for Argentina to drive deep. 

Mexico was lightheaded and seeing stars from how fast the pace was. All he could do was wrap his arms around Argentina’s shoulders and cling to him. He moaned his approval until his throat started to feel raw. He had been yelling at the match too. 

Argentina said, breathlessly, “You feel so good. So worth it.” 

Mexico wanted to respond, to say how incredible it felt for him, but he could not manage the words. He used one hand in Argentina’s hair to pull him into a deeper kiss to show his appreciation. 

The bed creaked under him in time with the man’s pace. It gave them a kind of accompaniment to the rhythmic moans.

The pace continued faster and faster until it reached a climax. Argentina finished with a satisfied groan and leaned forward against Mexico. He didn’t pull out quite yet and seemed content to stay right where he was. 

Mexico noticed a look of fatigue passing over the man’s face, and he asked, “Are you alright.” 

Argentina nodded happily and turned his head to kiss Mexico on the cheek before answering, “I underestimated how much Francis exhausted me. That was a long game.” 

Mexico understood; it had been a stressful overtime. He stroked Argentina’s hair and said, “If you let me get up, I’ll go run you a bath and pop some champagne.”

Argentina leaned back happily in the steaming hot bath and tipped a bottle of champagne to his lips. Mexico was pulling off his shirt, and said jokingly, “Are you going to leave any for me?” 

Argentina pointedly took a swig before saying, “Did you just win the cup?”

 Mexico raised an eyebrow at him. Argentina chuckled in a way that told him that the alcohol was already affecting him, and said, “You can have some when you come sit on my lap.” 

Mexico took off his shirt and folded it up carefully. Argentina’s shirt from the year that he won his third cup was a treasure. Only once he had laid it carefully aside did he join Argentina in the bathtub. 

The hot water did feel amazing on his newly sore muscles. He sat directly on the Argentine’s lap and then reached out for the bottle, which the other gladly handed over. He took a long drink before handing it back and asking, “Is this night everything that you hoped it would be?” 

He was determined that if the answer was no, he would do everything in his power to make the night even better. But Argentina nodded contentedly, “I do feel like a champion.” He reached up and stroked Mexico’s face affectionately, “And you’re such a beautiful extra prize.” 

Mexico took it as a cue and kissed him again, tasting the wine on the man’s lips. He replied, “I have been cheering for you, even when you’re a jerk.” The man looked almost sheepish as he said, stroking Mexico’s face where a black eye had been weeks before, “I did say that I was sorry about the eye.” 

Mexico stroked his face softly and smiled at him, “I know you did. If there were hard feelings, I wouldn’t be here fucking you.” 

Argentina took another long drink of the champagne and then said, with a twinkle in his eye, “On that topic, don’t think I am done with you yet.” Mexico reached into the water and said, “I can feel that.” 

He pulled himself even more firmly into Argentina’s lap and rose up on his knees. He could tell that Argentina was in no mood for something vigorous. He said, “You have worked so hard to get here. You sit there and I’ll ride you.”  Argentina tucked a long piece of hair behind Mexico’s ear and said, “That sounds wonderful, kitten. You know just how to spoil me.”

--------------------------------

Argentina looked happily exhausted where he was laying in bed, and if he could have been cuddled up with the trophy, he certainly would have. Mexico’s skin was still slightly wet, and he was busy drying himself off. Argentina said blearily, “Mi amor, come to bed.” 

He patted the spot next to him as if it wasn’t clear where he meant. Mexico did as he was said and laid down next to Argentina. The man immediately wrapped his arms around him and pulled him to his chest. Mexico said with a forced chuckle, “Amor? Are you mistaking me for someone taller and more Chilean?”

He felt like that was a title reserved for someone else entirely, and he felt odd hearing it. Argentina shook his head and replied, “I’m not. I love you and it’s about time I said it. That Dutch bastard said I treat you like a booty call, and I want you to know that isn’t true.” 

Mexico could not believe what he was hearing, since their arrangement had been casual sex. He was equally shocked that the Netherlands’ harsh words had been shaking Argentina’s conscience. 

He said, trying to deflect, “You are drunk. You won’t remember that you said that in the morning.”