[fanfic] Smile pt.2
Title: Smile
Summary: What choice is better, which sin is worse, and why is there a Spanish man sitting outside his window? "Come here into my arms, 'the darkness over there is bitter'. You'll smile a little, 'the darkness over here is sweet'." Spain/Romano Vampire oneshot
Characters: Spain, Romano
Pairing: Spamano
Rating: M
Part 2:
And so that night passes into another.
And another.
And another.
Evening after evening, Antonio returns to that tree, that window, that room. Night after night, he talks and laughs and sometimes drinks from an angry and adorable little Italian that he likes to call his own.
It is a strange and novel experience for him, talking to a human being calmly and friendlily. Stranger still that every few nights said human lets him sink his fangs into their neck, allowing Antonio to satisfy his hunger.
It is a situation unlike any other, but Antonio is enjoying it thoroughly. As he has expressed several times to the boy himself, he really likes Lovino. He thinks the Italian is the cutest, most interesting, most beautiful creature on the planet, and when he's talking to him Antonio just likes to stare at those beautiful eyes and gorgeous lips and soft skin. He loves the red of his cheeks and the pout on his lips and his single goal in life has become somehow getting the boy to smile.
And yet, there lies one downside to his infatuation with the boy. There is something internal that is keeping Antonio from taking Lovino. Stopping him from plundering the boy's body and taking it as his own. Something that is stopping him every time he tries.
He has made advances several times now; peppering the Lovino's neck with wet kisses, running his hands along the soft skin of his torso, making several attempts to remove the boy's pants…And each time he's stopped before he can take what he so desperately wants.
It is becoming really irritating.
But he can't deny that he likes just speaking with Lovino as well. He likes the way the boy's eyes light up when he sees Antonio at the window. The way he rushes forward to open it, scowling and cursing, but blushing that adorable red on his cheeks. He likes the caustic way in which the boy speaks, so different than the simpering and demure behaviour he usually finds so disgusting in humans. Lovino is frank and blunt though not very honest because he tells so much with his eyes that he doesn't with his mouth. Antonio thinks that this is one of the things he finds so alluring about him. He wants to know more. He wants to know why Lovino is as closed off as he is. He wants to know why phrases that should be casual hurt the Italain, why his eyes are always sad and angry and desperate. He wants to know why Lovino is fine with being the companion of an Angel of Death. He wants to know why he won't smile.
He wants to discover all of that and more.
But it doesn't look like he will get the chance.
Because the three of them- Francis, Gilbert, and himself -have been in this Italian city for months now. A quarter of year. Some of their kind can stay in the same place for years, lifetimes even, but they are usually alone and usually don't have as much as a reputation with the local whores as Francis does or as voracious an appetite as Gilbert.
So it is time to leave.
It is time to leave this place, this city, this tree, and this little Italian.
The recollection of this fact hits Antonio when he is in the middle of a particularly engaging conversation with Lovino. He is sitting on the floor of the boy's room when he suddenly remembers the very important thing he was supposed to say, and the very important thing he was going to do as a result.
"-and you never leave them for a few days without checking up on them. Like, fuck, they're practically your children. When we lived in Naples I was in my tomato garden practically every hour-,"
"Lovi!" interrupts Antonio urgently, and somewhat sadly. Because he is really enjoying the way Lovino's eyes light up and he smirks proudly when he is talking about his life in Naples and the precious tomato garden he left behind. It's a rare moment where Lovino drops most of is impenetrable walls and Antonio likes watching his excited facial expressions and dramatic gesturing. It's endearing and adorable all at once, and the closest the boy ever gets to smiling.
…But now he has to cut it all short because he has something important to tell him. About leaving. Leaving this place. This city. This room.
Leaving him.
Lovino's eyes widen at Antonio's interruption before narrowing in annoyance. The boy folds his arms across his chest and looks about to respond sharply, but once again, Antonio cuts him off.
"I'm sorry for interrupting you," he says hurriedly, "But I have something really important to tell you and I was supposed to tell you right when I came but I kept getting distracted by your adorable face and beautiful eyes and your interesting stories and the way your cheeks puff out-,"
"Sh-shut up!" stammers Lovino, aforementioned cheeks as red as ever. Antonio smiles softly and reaches over to caress the boy's skin softly, rubbing at the red blush on the Italian's face. The blush deepens and Lovino's eyes narrow, but he doesn't move, and he falls silent, allowing the man to continue his soft caresses. Lovino's body stiffens as Antonio's hand drifts down to push his shirt off his shoulder, but he still doesn't move, and Antonio leans forward to plant a single kiss on the brunette's exposed collarbone before pulling back with a sigh.
"It really is too bad," says Antonio with a pout. "I really wanted to make love to you Lovino! So badly! But now there's no time! No time at all! Today is the last night and I-,"
"What are you talking about?" interrupts Lovino sharply, pulling his shirt back up onto his shoulder and glaring at the brunette. As always, his eyes hold more than the anger that his voice portrays, panic hidden deep in those green-flecked depths.
It makes Antonio sad. Even moreso because he really can't do anything to make it stop.
"I have to go away," says Antonio, almost sheepishly, as if he is saying something he is deeply ashamed of. "I've been in this city for too long, so now-,"
"You're leaving?" interrupts Lovino shrilly, his eyes wide as he takes a step closer to the other man, "What the hell do you mean, 'go away'?"
Antonio smiles sadly, reaching a hand up to brush at the hair falling on Lovino's forehead. So soft, as always.
"Angels of Death can only go unnoticed for so long," he says softly, "It is time for me to fly away, Lovino."
Antonio stands up from the floor in a fluid motion, closing his eyes and sighing while running his fingers through his hair. He still doesn't know what happened, really. Why is he saying goodbye like this? He's just going to kill the boy, right? He might not have time to fuck him but there's certainly enough time to drain all the blood from his body. It is the only thing to do in this situation. He can't just leave with Lovino knowing all about him and what he is. And why would he leave him alive after tonight anyways? The whole point was that he liked the boy, liked talking to him, liked the way he tasted, and didn't want to snuff him out from the world. But if he is leaving the city and is never going to see Lovino Vargas again, then surely it doesn't matter if he kills him?
That's the logical way of thinking.
And yet…
"Y-you can't just…"
Antonio opens his eyes to see his precious little Italian staring at him, hand clinging onto his sleeve and eyes wide and…afraid.
Finally.
After all these nights of the boy being resigned and nervous and sometimes a little frightened but never afraid, Lovino finally has genuine fear in his eyes. Horror, as well. The look sends conflicting emotions through Antonio. The boy is not scared for the reasons he should be, and the expression makes the Spaniard more sad than anything else.
"You can't leave me," says Lovino after a moment of stammering desperately, still clinging to Antonio's sleeve. "You- you came here and did all this shit. Y-you were supposed to fucking kill me and instead you…you didn't and-,"
"I'm still supposed to kill you," says Antonio in a matter-of-fact way, "I really shouldn't just leave you alive~!" he laughs, though he's not sure why. He doesn't think what he says was funny.
"But I'm not going to," continues the brunette softly with a smile, "I decided. I'm not going to. Because…ah, I don't know! It's not a matter of liking you anymore, I don't think. Maybe I just don't want you to die?" Antonio shrugs, Lovino's pale, horrorstruck look rolling off of him like water.
"It was really fun talking to you and getting to know you, Lovino," states Antonio, once again reaching forward to run a hand along Lovino's face, down his neck, and back up to run through his hair. The Spaniard then leans forward, pressing his face to the boy's throat and breathing in deeply.
"So good," he hums, pressing his lips against the skin before retracting with a sigh.
"So this is goodbye now, for good. Okay?" says Antonio as he straightens up, "I'm leaving you alive so go and have a lot of fun with your life! And I'm trusting you not to tell anyone about me, because than that means I really should have killed you and- well- you understand, right?"
Antonio stares at Lovino expectantly, but all he gets is that wide-eyed, almost stupefied look. And silence. Absolute silence.
He stands there awkwardly for a few more seconds before rubbing the back of his head and smiling crookedly.
"Well….," he says, giving Lovino a sad kind of look,
"…Adios."
/
The parting with Lovino hadn't gone well, in Antonio's opinion. He really is going to miss the boy, and was hoping for something a bit more…heartfelt? That's probably not the right word, but he definitely wanted something more than the boy staring at him blankly with his mouth practically hanging open.
But now it is the next night, and he, Gilbert, and Francis are all sauntering leisurely down the darkened streets towards the edge of the city. They are leaving, for good.
"You should have just fucked him," says Gilbert bluntly as the three of them stroll along the street with only the hanging moon to bear witness to their departure. "Fucked him and killed him. Would have saved you all of this ridiculous drama."
"He is just a human," adds Francis, "There are plenty of beautiful boys in Italy. And even more beautiful girls. No need to get so torn over one farmboy with pretty eyes."
Antonio sighs, but nods. They don't understand, he knows. They are both far out of touch with what was left of their humanity and see humans as food or playthings at most. If he is being honest with himself, his opinions of humans do not differ much from his friends.
But when it comes to Lovino…
"There is a little mouse up ahead," murmurs Francis suddenly, "Sounds out of breath too, the poor thing. Shall we take one last snack for the road?"
"Is there?" replies Antonio, surprised. Francis has really good ears, but Antonio has a really good nose, and he's surprised that he didn't pick up on whatever person the Frenchman is talking about. It probably has something to do with the cloying scent of pollution hanging over everything. He can't smell anything properly.
"How far up ahead?" he asks, moving ahead of the group to look into the darkness.
"I see him," comments Gilbert, licking his lips as he peers forward with red eyes narrowed, "Stupid isn't he? He sees us too, but he's not moving. Can I just kill him here and now? There's no one around and we're leaving anyways."
Francis sighs but makes no room to disagree, Antonio however peers forward, the person standing in the distance becoming clearer and easier to see.
His eyes widen.
"Don't move, Gilbert," he snaps suddenly, "Or you, Francis. That boy is mine."
Because now he can clearly see the dark auburn hair, the slight frame, the honey-coloured eyes sparkling in the darkness as the young man stands there with his hands clenched into fists and teeth digging into his bottom lip.
It is his Little Italian.
Lovino.
Surprise flits across the faces of both of his companions, before it gives way to annoyance on Gilbert and smug amusement on Francis. Antonio ignores the looks and the comments that follow them, choosing instead to break away from his friends and begin walking forward to meet the boy standing in the shadow of a building up ahead.
Lovino.
Lovino.
Why are you here you silly little boy?
Lovino stands stock still, one hand braced against the brick as he watches Antonio approach with a stony look on his face. His lips are trembling a bit, but his eyes are firm and unwavering as they lock with the Spanish man's.
"Lovino," breathes Antonio as he stops in front of the boy, staring down at him with all those hungry emotions he has been trying so hard to suppress. It is a hard thing, Antonio thinks, to constantly be presented with the thing you want more than anything else in the world and not be able to have it. Especially now, with the object of his desire thrusting himself back at him when Antonio had just resolved himself to never see the boy again. He is starting to get just a little bit annoyed, not necessarily with Lovino, but with the situation.
"Antonio," replies Lovino, his words firm but hurried and desperate just like his eyes always were. "You bastard. You asshole. You fucking piece of shit. You utter failure as an Angel of Death! You fucking bastard!"
Antonio blinks and tilts his head to the side. He can't say he was expecting that. It's not like he's a stranger to Lovino insulting him, but for the boy to come all the way out here to the edge of the city to call him names?
It's strange, even for him.
"And you," continues Lovino, his body shaking with rage and his eyes brimming with tears-
-tears?
"You don't even know do you?" The young man is right in his face now, cheeks puffed out and lip pouting but eyes full of hurt and body trembling. "Asshole. Think you can- can just come in through my window? Interrupt and mess up everything. Everything when I was finally ready- when I was finally going to-,"
He stops, blinking back the tears and taking a deep, shuddering breath before launching back into his tirade with vigour.
"You were supposed to kill me," he accuses vehemently, "That's what you do, isn't it? I thought…I thought the world was finally giving me a fucking break and I wouldn't have to die in sin, but no, you just had to- just had to leave with a fucking smile on your face-,"
"Lovino, I don't understand," interrupts Antonio, tilting his head to the side "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I was going to kill myself!" explodes Lovino, hands clenched into fists and tears dripping down those reddened, pinchable cheeks. "I was…I was tired and I was ready and I was finally going to do it…but then…"
And then, the boy deflates. All of the anger rushes out of him as he slumps, head dropping and body shivering.
"Stupid bastard," he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking, "Complementing me, talking to me, saying you liked me. What the hell was that about? You were supposed to kill me, so that I wouldn't have to kill myself. But then you…you just…,"
Lovino looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with water. One of his hands latches out and grabs Antonio's sleeve, and the Spanish man notices for the first time that the boy is wearing only a light shirt, and pants. No shoes or jacket for the cool night.
"I was ready," croaks Lovino, "I was so ready. But then you came and…I became scared! Scared to take my own life! Because all of sudden….I knew what it was like to have something to live for. Something to look forward to."
Antonio can only stare. This is not something he expected at all. At all. In fact, the situation is blowing his mind just a little. In what world did humans get upset for being left alive? For someone liking their company? For liking them?
Dios, these strange Little Italians.
"And now you're just going to leave?" The boy is angry again, hands in fists and face thrust belligerently forward. That fire that Antonio likes so much is burning brilliantly and hotly and with pulses of pain that are practically tangible in the air.
"You're just going to leave? Just like that? When you've fucked everything up? Hell no. Hell no, you bastard."
Antonio blinks in surprise and lets out a small sound as Lovino grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him closer, so that their noses are almost touching. A thrill of anger runs through the Spaniard, and he feels a growl building in his throat. At the same time, excitement pulses up from his chest and he finds himself surprisingly aroused by the show of dominance in the boy.
"Take responsibility," growls Lovino, eyes burning with intensity and tears as they stare into Antonio's own green depths, "Take fucking responsibility. I don't care how. Kill me now, right here, if you want. D-do anything you'd like to me, I honestly don't give a fuck anymore. Just…,"
Though there are a thousand things Antonio wants to say he keeps silent and watches with his mouth firmly shut as Lovino squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep, shuddering breath.
"You can't leave me like this," he says after a thick silence, opening his eyes and staring at Antonio resignedly, "You…you have to take responsibility. I wanted to die. I wanted to die because there was nothing to live for. But then…then all of sudden there was something. Someone who talked to me, acknowledge me, liked me. There…there's nothing to my life except for you, you bastard. So take fucking responsibility. Either do what you were originally supposed to and kill me, or...o-or anything else. I'm yours to do whatever you want with. But you can't leave me. Not like this. Not when you've robbed me of the ability to take my own life. Not when you've given me a taste of what it's like to want to live. Not like this."
The boy falls silent then, and he takes a step backwards, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. His cheeks are that familiar bright red, and he is staring at Antonio with a new kind of fear. A searching, anxious fear as he waits for the Spaniard to respond to his strange demand.
So strange, so unusual, Antonio can only stare. This little Italian, constantly awing him with that bright fire burning behind those flushing cheeks and continuously rocking the foundations of what Antonio knows about the world and about humans.
Humans are just so different now. Maybe in a few years, they really won't sleep at night anymore.
Antonio is torn from his thoughts by Gilbert and Francis approaching from behind. The night is young, but the two are still impatient to leave. An impertinent human's interruption, however startling the things that were said may have been, is nothing but an annoyance that they would very much like to get rid of.
And still trembling, Lovino waits for Antonio's response.
Seconds pass.
Antonio smiles.
"You are mine?" he asks, tilting his head to the side with his green eyes sparkling fiercely.
Lovino swallows thickly, before nodding, wiping the last of the tears out of his eyes.
"I am yours," he whispers.
/
His eyes are like emeralds.
Lying flat on his back, staring upwards at the man who is hovering above him, those eyes, smiling hungrily and glittering darkly.
Like emeralds. Emeralds of death.
There is a feeling of disgust rolling in the Lovino's stomach as he thinks about what he is about to do. What he is about to let be done. Lying with a man as one would a woman is one of the deepest forms of sin, he knows. But so is taking your own life, and that had been a sin he was willing to commit.
This might be worse, but he finds he just doesn't care anymore.
He used to care. He can remember a time when he did care, and care a lot. But it seems far off now. The days spent sketching beneath trees, in the tomato field, stretched out on the grass. The sunny days in Naples that he loved so much. Naples, where the beauty of the country distracted him from how much he was ostracized from the rest of his family. How his grandfather and brother only had eyes for each other and paid him only the slightest of glances. Ignored. Forgotten.
In his tomato field, with his sketchbook, he can forget it.
But in a dark, rundown apartment, his sketchbook forgotten as he is forced to go work in the factories, he feels like he is drowning in it.
Because Feliciano is allowed to stay home, oh yes. Because something will come of his art. He will be a great painter someday while Lovino's silly sketches are just that- silly. Time-wasting. When he could be making money. So lazy, Lovino is.
But Feliciano, Feliciano staring into space with a dreamy look on his face is alright. Yes, he is just thinking of his next masterpiece is all. And Lovino why are you standing around for? Shouldn't you be going to try and strike a deal at the market? If you have extra time you should try and pick up an extra shift at the factory. You can't laze around all day.
Laze. Around.
He works fourteen hours a day.
And those brief moments of rest are punctuated with him having to do things for his brother. Take care of his brother. Make sure is brother doesn't hurt himself because if, heaven forbid, Feliciano bumps his head on the edge of the cupboard than it is Lovino's fault for not having watched him and warned him of the approaching corner.
And their grandfather will reprimand him accordingly.
Tired, is what Lovino is. Tired. He wants to sketch. He wants to go back to being a tomato farmer. But more than anything, he doesn't want to feel so alone and unloved.
He tries to ignore it.
But it begins to hurt.
A lot.
And then more than a lot.
Because Lovino has been ignored his whole life, but he could always let those horrid feelings wash away in the warm Neapolitan sun, with the scent of tomatoes all around him. Without them, all those memories and feelings are hitting him. Hard.
And it builds.
And it builds.
Until he breaks.
And now, here he is.
And he really doesn't care.
His breath hitches as Antonio undoes the buttons on his shirt, pushing the garment down off of his shoulders and allowing the white fabric to slide off the bed and to the ground. Lovino shivers. The abandoned mansion Antonio was staying in is cold, and the sheets beneath his back are icy and uncomfortable under his skin. His mind is taken off the cold, however, when Antonio's lips press to his throat, just above his collarbone. Lovino breathes in sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as the warm mouth moves against his neck, trailing fiery kisses across the skin. He squeals as teeth suddenly nip at the skin, Antonio leaving bruises and indents as he begins biting down, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave a series of marks along Lovino's throat and shoulders.
Lovino grimaces, his neck stinging with pain at the numerous bruises that have been left, and he opens one eye cautiously as Antonio slowly removes his lips from his body.
The Spaniard lifts his head, and Lovino finds himself momentarily breathless as he is once again caught by those eyes, glittering like the dangerous gems they are.
"So beautiful," mutters Antonio, the hungry look in his eyes more prevalent than ever, accented by a possessive glint that hadn't been there previously, "Mi Lovino."
With that, the Spaniard plunges his head down and sinks his fangs into Lovino's neck, causing the Italian to arch off of the bed with a scream. Tears bead in the boy's eyes and trickle down his face, but Antonio continues to suck harshly, the red liquid spilling out from the corners of his mouth.
Lovino clutches at the man's shoulders, tears rolling freely down his cheeks as he bites his lip to stop screams of pain from ripping from his throat. He is concentrating so hard on masking his pain that he does not notice as one of Antonio's hands move down to the front of his pants.
It is not until the hand cups his crotch and tightens around his length that Lovino notices, and his whimper of pain turns into something else entirely as he arches upwards, the fingers clutching at Antonio's shoulders digging in sharply.
The Spanish man makes a dark sound, possibly a chuckle, and swiftly pulls down Lovino's pants and trousers, wresting them from his legs and leaving the Italian completely bare in one swift motion.
Pain momentarily forgotten, Lovino quivers beneath Antonio, utterly aware of his nudity and vulnerability beneath what he knows is a demon. His heart hammers in his chest and he tries to steady his breathing, meeting the Spaniard's gaze fairly.
Antonio is staring down at him, his head tilted slightly to the side as he stares down at Lovino with a questioning, slightly troubled look in his eyes. His wandering, probing hands stop their movement and his green eyes bore into Lovino's, conflict evident within them.
The concept of an Angel of Death having morals is a strange one, but Lovino can see no other reason for the man suddenly stopping. Perhaps, the reason the man stopped all those times all those nights previous. Part of him thinks he should run with it, let the man get off of his naked body and allow him to escape with some chance of redemption and the possibility of not going to hell.
And yet…
"I am only alive because of you," says Lovino quietly, his voice quavering only a little, "And therefore my life is yours. Do as you please."
Silence falls between them for a few moments, before Antonio's face breaks into that familiar all-consuming grin and he begins silkily whispering words in Spanish, dropping his head to nuzzle into Lovino's neck. The boy shudders once, before closing his eyes and letting his body relax beneath the older man's.
Antonio moves his head back, letting his eyes drift down the Italian's body slowly, green eyes staring with rapt attention and a look of utter wonder in his eyes. Lovino tries not to flinch as Antonio suddenly grabs his leg and lifts it, running a finger along his inner thigh before attacking the soft skin with his mouth. The boy squirms and tries not to whimper as Antonio's lips begin trailing lovingly down his leg, giving way to his teeth in some areas and leaving dark bruises along the flesh. When that leg has been properly lavished, Antonio lifts the other one and does the same, the mixture of soft caresses and harsh nips sending a mix of pleasure and pain through Lovino, who clutches at the sheets and clenches his teeth together.
Then, Antonio bends down and his tongue meets Lovino's side, causing the boy to jolt and release a garbled sound from the back of his throat. He writhes uncontrollably as the Spaniard licks and kisses up his side, still caressing the inside of his thigh and moving his lips up to his chest.
Lovino whimpers again and moans as Antonio's lips latch on to his sensitive nipple, pulling and tugging and licking at it with his lips and tongue. The moan becomes louder and needier as Antonio's hand once again clamps around Lovino's length, the sensations a thousand times more poignant without the barrier of clothing around it.
Antonio's mouth and hand continue to work and massage for awhile, sending Lovino into a writhing, moaning mess as the unfamiliar waves of pleasure crash into him again and again. The boy feels a hot feeling cumulating in his lower regions and his whimpers become louder, back arching as his chest presses itself to the Spaniard's.
It is then that the hand around his manhood disappears and Antonio removes his lips from his nipple. Lovino's eyes are blurry from both pleasure and tears and he blinks as he feels the man push apart his bruised legs.
"Sorry, I don't have anything with me," says Antonio's voice, cheerful and light as always, "I do not generally care too much about the comfort of my partners, you see. I will prepare you a bit, because you're so cute and I don't want to see you in too much pain, but I don't have anything to make it slippery, so it's still going to hurt. Sorry!"
And then Lovino squeals, the sensation of something being shoved none to gently right there pushing aside the waves of pleasure that had previously threatened to over take him. Tears form in his eyes anew, and he utters garbled curses as the finger shifts around ruthlessly, digging deeper and further.
Lovino shrieks, as a second finger is added, feeling tissue tear and blood begin to trickle out of his hole, pain shooting up his spine and causing the tears to once again spill over onto his cheeks.
The two fingers shift around again, stretching and pushing and probing, before they are finally pull out and Antonio's smiling face is once again looming over Lovino's tear-stained one.
"Lo siento, mi Lovino," says the Spaniard apologetically, tongue snaking out to lick some of the blood off of his fingers, "I can't wait any longer, so I'm going to start now. It's going to hurt, but hopefully it will start to feel good quickly!"
And then he has lifted Lovino's legs onto his shoulders and has pressed his lower body against the boy's. Pressing against and in until Lovino's head is thrown back against the bed as he howls in pain.
It's like he is being torn apart and oh god it hurts. The feeling of being stretched beyond his capabilities and something that just didn't fit being shoved in deeper and deeper. Sobs tear themselves out of Lovino's throat and he claws at the blankets as he feels blood leaking from his entrance like a running faucet.
But then, a stabbing feeling of pleasure shoots up his spine as something is hit and he arches his back up off the bed. His hands reach up again to clutch at Antonio's shoulders and he gasps and moans as the spot is hit again and again with amazing precision. His screams and sobs give way to moans and whimpers and gasps and somewhere at the back of his mind something is screaming at the sin that is being committed but it is quickly silence and pushed aside.
God forsook him along time ago. It is about time he did the same.
That same hot feeling begins to build in his lower belly before he arches up so far that he feels his spine will break and his eyes and head roll back as his mouth opens in a soundless scream, body spasming and shaking with the waves of pleasure before collapsing weakly.
Lovino breathes heavily, tears still leaking from his eyes as Antonio continues to thrust in and out for a few more minutes, humming softly to himself before making a surprised 'Oh!" sound as he releases with a shudder. Lovino whimpers and quivers at the feeling of the warmth spilling into him and he closes his eyes, bruised and pained body going completely limp beneath Antonio's.
Lovino hears a happy, content sigh from above him, but his eyes remain shut. He can sense Antonio's head once again descending towards his, but he is tired and hurting and he wants to sleep more than anything else in the world.
He doesn't react as Antonio's fangs cut new holes into his flesh, doesn't react as the blood is once again pulled from his body. The draining sensation is one that he is familiar with now, and the pain is nothing compared to the burning in his lower body. He simply lies dozily as the Spaniard continues to feed.
Lovino's consciousness begins to fade, and he finds his body feeling heavy, heavier than it has ever felt before. Antonio is drinking far more than he usually does and Lovino can hear his heart beat pounding in his ears, rapidly slowing as his breathing gets more and more laboured.
So he is going to kill me after all, thinks the Italian sleepily, his thoughts becoming more and more scattered as he begins to drift away from the world, the pain and the sensation and the everything slipping as if being washed away by the rain.
The last thing he does before the blackness takes him completely…
…is smile.
Aha~ So how was that?
I hope you're all able to realize that Lovino does not love Antonio and Antonio does not love Lovino. Or rather, Antonio loves Lovino like you would love a prized doll or a cherished pet. Something to stroke and cuddle and coo at and something you'd treasure and want to keep safe, but not love as you would another person. Lovino just feels like he only has Antonio to turn to. He can't kill himself anymore because everytime he wants to he thinks of how nice it was talking to someone who likes him and doesn't want to die anymore, but he can't continue living the way he is without Antonio there to talk to him. (Or something like that. orz I fail at explaining my thought processes)
Please review!
xoxo, natcat5 ;p