You watched quietly as Feliciano ran about the house, his strange hair curl bouncing wildly with his movements. He chattered excitedly about something in Italian, leaving you completely befuddled as to the source of his happiness. His hands seemed to be blurs as he moved random items about.
"Feli, slow down. I can't understand a word you're saying." You tell him, your voice quiet against his loud din.
He pauses for a moment, just long enough to murmur, "Good." You barely hear it, followed by the Italian gibberish about some type of 'plan'.
"Whenever you're ready to make sense, I'll be in the bedroom." You announce, only to be pinned against the wall by him.
"No, you can't-a go in-a there, _______________." His expression changes to one of horror at your idea, his brow gleaming slightly with sweat.
"Then where am I supposed to go? I don't really feel like going anywhere, and you're making so much fuss up here." You state, staring back at him evenly.
"Wait in-a the basement." He says shortly, shoving you downstairs before you can protest. You sit on the steps, waiting impatiently and listening to whatever you could make out from his muttered musings through the door.
"__________________, you can-a come up now." A familiar, cheerful voice announces closely, followed by the creak of a door opening.
Blinking groggily, you realize you had fallen asleep on the steps, your back sore from sitting on the hard surface for so long. You stand, stretching, relishing in the sound of your bones popping and rearranging themselves into their normal positions.
"Am I finally going to see what you've been doing, Feli?" You ask suspiciously, walking back into the kitchen. He blocks your view a bit, standing in front of you the entire time.
"If you're-a good, maybe you-a will." He purrs, his honey orbs half-lidded as he leans down slightly.
"Oh lovely. The Italian locks me in the basement and is now trying to seduce me. What's next, a horse's head in my bed?" You ask sarcastically, making the old joke as you move closer to him, your hands pressed against his well-sculpted chest.
"If you wanted-a the Italian Stallion, you-a could have just-a asked, mia bella." Feliciano responds, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"But that's much too easy, you see. Where's the fun in asking? No, I'd much rather be subtle." You pout as you coil your arms around his neck. He begins twirling, forcing you into a slow waltz around the room.
"Ah, of-a course. Silly me-a, I didn't-a realize you'd-a want to-a be mysterious, bella." He whispers seductively, pulling you closer and kissing you passionately. You kiss back, submissively letting his tongue dance over your own. His flavor tantalizes you, a mixture of pasta and Italian spices rolling off his tongue.
You break apart for air, your face flushing slightly. Feliciano runs his fingers through your soft (h/c) locks, smirking sexily before halting the slow twirl and saying in a low, husky voice, "Mia cupcake."
Gawking at him, your (h/c) eyes meet his honey brown, which glittered with love and lust. You shiver as his hands begin to travel upwards from their place on your waist. He rests his forehead against your own, his strange curl seemingly perkier than before.
"God dammit, Feli. Now I want frosting." You complain, breaking away from him and going to the kitchen, leaving him to stare after you.