He was fourteen when it happened. He remembered reading it in the papers. The headlines were all the same that day; the princess found dead under suspicious circumstances. It didn't take long for the blame to fall on the princess' maidservant, a young Sheikah woman. It took even less long for the more insidious of the king's advisors to take advantage of his grief and worm their way into his confidence. Finally, when the backstabbing, plotting and machinations were done, one man and one man alone had the ear of the king. His name was Ganondorf.

The soldiers, in their new black uniforms, came to the orphanage he grew up in the winter of that year. They'd spoken to all the teenage boys, expounding the glory of serving their country. They'd praised him for his strength, his blonde hair, and blue eyes and fair skin. They praised him for looking so Hylian. He signed up at sixteen.

When I watch you, I wanna do you right where you're standing
Right on the foyer, on this dark day, right in plain view

He rounded the corner, coming to the assistance of his fellow soldiers. The ones that resisted arrest were always the most fun. He was a fox hound, desperate to hunt, except, it didn't look much like a resisted arrest. What it looked like, was a couple of officers cornering a kid. The boy was dressed like a Hylian, baggy white shirt tucked into a pair of loose tweed trousers held up by braces. But he couldn't hide the colour of his skin and eyes.

Link stepped closer, enjoying the way that tawny and red eyes stared up at him petulantly from beneath pale blonde bangs. What he enjoyed more was the way the sun came through the shirt the boy wore, silhouetting a slender, toned waist. It didn't matter that he'd done nothing wrong, simply being who he was gave Link a reason to arrest him, and, good Goddesses, he wanted to get that boy alone.

`Papers.' He held his hand out. All non-Hylians had to carry identity papers with them and wear identification bands on their arms. They were also confined to specific parts of the city, especially Sheikah, who needed to have written permission from a state official to leave the ghettos. The kid dug the documents out of his pocket and handed them over without breaking eye contact. Link wondered what that beautiful face would look like wracked with pleasure and screaming his name.

He tore his gaze away from eyes so intense they made him glad his uniform jacket hung down to the tops of his thighs, hiding any potential embarrassment. He knew that potential prisoners shouldn't turn him on but there was something about this one. It was in the way he stood, his persistent silence, and those Goddess damned eyes. He looked over the papers in his hands. Huh, seventeen and only 5'7", the kid had some growing to do. Though to be honest, everyone seemed short when compared with his six foot four.

`You're not supposed to be here, and I don't see your band.' Link leaned closer, his face inches from the boy's, `I can arrest you for that.'

The kid looked away, jaw clenched. Link reached round to the small of his back, pulling his hand cuffs out of a pocket on his belt. The kid's shoulders slumped, and he held out his hands, this definitely wasn't his first time. Link began to idly wonder if anyone had had the boy before. He hoped not, he wanted to leave his mark on virgin territory. He took the boy by the arm, surprised at first by how muscular it felt, and steered him back to his car. Not that many other NCO's were allowed army cars given that automobiles were still relatively new inventions, but an exemplary service record worked wonders when it came to getting what you want. He stuffed the boy in the back, taking a chance to touch more of him than he reasonably should. It took about five minutes to drive to the military police station.

He marched the kid through the station, straight down to the detention rooms. There was no need to fill in paperwork, nobody cared what happened to undesirable citizens. He swung the door shut behind him before he took the cuffs off. He took a step forward; the boy took a step back. They kept perfect distance until he'd backed the kid into the wall.

`We both know you're looking at a night in the cells, at least, for what you've done. But,' He leaned forward, bracing himself with a forearm against the wall, `if you're cooperative,' he slid his knee between the boy's legs, rubbing his crotch with his thigh, 'it might not come to that.'

The kid's eyes went wide as he stared down at the leg gently coaxing an erection out of him. He swung, fist coming up fast and powerful. Link danced out of the way, reflexes quick after years of training, and caught the punch, swallowing it in his large hand.

`Careful there, you don't want to find out what happens if we add assaulting an officer to the list.'

The boy's chest was heaving, and a blush had spread all the way to the tips of his ears. He was staring at the floor. Link looked at him for a while, taking in the dishevelled glory of him, before leaving. If that was how the boy was going to be he could stew down here for the night, it made no difference to Link. But it did look like he was going to have to find somewhere private to sort himself out.

Of the whole ghetto. The boots stomp meadows, but we ignore that
You're lovely baby, this war is crazy. I won't let you down

It'd been a long day. He'd been involved in a few more arrests and a raid on shop selling forged papers. The sky was dark and he was heading home, leaving through the back door of the station. He stepped out into the alley, his breath turning to steam in the cold air. It was only after he'd shut the door and turned back round that he noticed the person leaning against the wall a little ways further down the alley.

The body turned towards him before pushing off from the wall and walking closer. He knew who it was before they stepped into the corona of light cast by the bare bulb above the door. The boy from yesterday stopped a few feet away from him, eyes bright beneath his bangs. Link was sure that even if he saw it every day for a hundred years he'd never get tired of that look. Heat was already starting to gather in his crotch.

`I didn't realise our cells were so nice, this is the first time someone's walked all the way back here just so they can get arrested again.'

The kid shrugged, pointing to the cloth band fastened round his arm. It was white with a red Sheikah eye stitched on. Link was surprised to find himself chuckling.

`That doesn't change the fact that you're somewhere you shouldn't be.'

The boy's mouth moved but no words came out. He tried again before looking at the floor.

`Come on, spit it out.' Link reached round for his cuffs again, he really didn't get this kid.

Teeth were ground together as a decision was made. Quick steps closed the gap between them. There was a pause, an inhalation, a gathering of resolve. The boy stood on tip toes, stretching up to put his mouth next to Link's ear.

`Screw me.'

The words came out hot against his ear, breathy and nervous. The kid leaned away slightly, not looking at him, his face stunningly red. Link didn't need telling twice. He picked the boy up, throwing him roughly over his shoulder, and carried him away from the station, further into the twisting back alleys of the city. He dropped him, pinned him to the wall and gripped the boy's chin, forcing his head back, stretching out a long, tanned neck.

The gasps and gentle moans that accompanied the kisses, licks and bites he was leaving all over that neck were making him hard. He worked a hand up, under the boy's shirt, running fingertips over lean muscle and scars. His fingers found nipples and began tweaking and rubbing them. Link looked up to watch eyelids flutter and moans escape through chewed lips. He used his knee to widen the boy's legs and ran a hand down to cup his crotch, pleased to find an already half hard cock.

He took a moment to push braces off of the kid's shoulders and to undo his button fly. Then he pulled down the boy's underwear just enough to uncover the nascent erection. Taking it in hand, he stroked to bring it to attention. There was a haze above his head, every keening trill the boy made condensing into steam above them. Desperate hands found their way to his trousers, tugging them undone. He groaned when slender fingers found his rigid dick.

He wanted more. He lifted the boy up, guiding legs to wrap around his waist. Link pulled his hand out of the shirt into become buried it and pressed his fingers against the kid's lips.

`Suck.'

His fingers were engulfed and a dexterous tongue made short work of getting them suitably lubricated. It left Link wondering what a blow job would be like. He pulled his fingers from the boy's mouth and used his other hand to gently part his buttocks. One finger traced its way around the newly uncovered hole before working its way inside. The sudden tensing of abdominals and the gritting of teeth told Link that this was definitely the kid's first time. This was going to be good. He worked the finger in and out, waiting for the boy to get comfortable before adding another. The kid mewed when the third one went in, clutching tightly to his shoulders.

`Heh, you like it don't you?'

Enthusiastic nodding was followed by a gasp when fingers met prostate. When the boy was slack jawed with pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of his head, Link pulled his fingers out. Their departure elicited a frustrated whine. Link smirked, pleased by how much the kid wanted him, and rubbed the last vestiges of spit over his cock. He lined himself up, head brushing against the edges of the boy's entrance. He went in in one long smooth motion, hips well practiced. The kid let out a long hiss, every part of his body tensing up.

It was so hard to stay still, to wait. He was encased in tight, hot bliss and he was aching to bury himself into it over and over again. The hands clinging to his shoulders loosened and the heaving chest pressed against his calmed a little. He withdrew slightly, starting with shallow thrusts. His head dropped onto the kid's shoulder, the pair of them moaning in chorus. It felt so fucking good.

Faster and harder, faster and harder. The world melted and swam like ink in water. The boy's hand moved down, reaching to take hold of his own cock. Link batted it away, closing his own fingers around it instead. He stroked in time to his thrusts as best he could, pleasure making coordination more difficult. Hands fisted themselves into his jacket and the kid's keening moans picked up. Precum dribbled over his fingers. He felt the orgasm ripple through the boy and it sent him over the edge, tumbling into electric ecstasy. He came.

They stood, panting, in the alley for a few minutes before buttoning themselves back up and going their separate ways.

No, I won't let them take you, won't let them take you,
Hell, no no, oh no, I won't let them take you, won't let them take you
Hell, no, no
No, oh no, no, no

He didn't know when seeing the kid became a regular thing. Initially after the first time, maybe, once or twice a week he'd leave work and find the boy waiting in the alley. Then once or twice a week became nearly every night. They found whatever private place they could; alleyways, the car and even once, his office. Link wasn't sure what was different about tonight, wasn't sure what had made him bring the kid home. Maybe it was the added excitement of smuggling the Sheikah to his apartment near the castle.

He'd dragged them through to the bedroom, barely waiting for the front door to close. When he realised this would the first time he'd see the boy completely naked, he took his time undressing him. Every new inch of skin that was revealed sent more and more heat rushing to his crotch. He explored each bit with his fingers, mouth and tongue. The amount of scars he found surprised him. They were a testament to growing up in a country that saw the kid as something less than human. It made him wonder how many beatings the boy had received.

He'd long since learnt how talented that tongue could be, but it didn't mean it didn't undo him every single time. Link's head lolled back against twisted sheets, one hand gripping them tightly, and the other tangled into the boy's hair. He couldn't stop himself bucking his hips, thrusting into the warm, wetness. The tip of the kid's tongue ran up the underside of his dick before stroking against his head. Link groaned, long and low, and pulled the boy's head back, up and off of his cock.

Well-toned thighs placed themselves either side of his hips. Long fingers closed around his erection, holding it steady as the boy positioned himself. He sunk down, excruciatingly slowly. Link dug his fingernails into the boy's arse, desperately trying to make him move faster. The kid just ignored the insistent hands. Only gaining speed slowly, gradually working them to fever pitch, until all Link could do was watch, hazy eyed, as the kid gyrated desperately on top of him, head thrown back and voice gasping out into the small room. When he started touching himself as well it was more than Link could bear. He came, voice stuttering out in time with the convulsions of his body. The boy didn't stop, just rammed himself down onto Link with even more force. It wasn't long before he came too, semen spilling onto Link's stomach.

The kid rolled off him, panting and breathless. Link sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He used a dirty shirt he found on the floor to clean up before pulling his trousers back on.

`What's your name?' He stared forward, not looking at the boy behind him.

`You saw it when you took my papers.'

`I know, but I want you to tell me.'

This was probably the longest conversation they'd ever had.

`It's Sheik.'

Link stood up. Sheik, he had known that was the boy's name all along, it was just that, up until now, he hadn't cared. Maybe it was seeing all the scars, or the way Sheik's face lit up every time they came together, that made him change, or perhaps, he was just going soft. He stretched and turned to look and the boy splayed out on his bed.

`You want some coffee?'

Sheik nodded, `black please.'

Link walked towards the door to the rest of the apartment, pausing to point out where the bathroom was.

He stood in his tiny kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil on the stove. What the ever-loving fuck did he think he was doing? He was aiding and abetting the flouting of the law. He was letting a Sheikah roam as he pleased, outside of the ghetto, for what? So he could have sex with Sheik? The sex was excellent, he couldn't deny it, but it hardly excused what he was doing. Nor did it explain why his life seemed to have become a boring interlude between the electric minutes he spent with Sheik.

The bathroom door clicked open. Sheik shuffled into the room, arms wrapped around himself, wearing nothing but Link's uniform shirt. Oh Goddesses. Link froze, nothing, nothing in all the world, was better to look at than this. Half of him wanted to pick Sheik up and do him all over again right here, on the kitchen table, the other half wanted to wrap his arms around the boy and hold him until the sun rose. The kettle shrieked. Link distracted himself with pouring hot water into the cafetiere.

He heard the footsteps approach from behind him. A body pressed against his back, a forehead rested against his shoulder blade and arms twined around his waist. Link pressed the plunger down on the coffee press with a shaking hand. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes,

`Stay. Stay tonight and let me hold you.'

Sheik mumbled into his back, `I'd like that.'

And when our city, vast and shitty, falls to the Axis
They'll search the buildings, collect gold fillings, wallets and rings

He crashed through the door, lock breaking, splinters flying. Whatever he had expected to find behind the door it wasn't this. High ceilings and big bay windows greeted him. The furniture was a beautifully eclectic selection of antiques and he could hear a wireless talking to itself somewhere. This had to be the most beautiful apartment he'd ever seen. The sound of bare feet on hardwood parquet rang out. His lover stumbled into the entrance hall, eyes wide and worried.

`Link?'

He closed the distance between them, gripping Sheik's shoulders tightly. Link's chest heaved; his eyes were wild and desperate.

`You have go. Run, get out of the city, get as far away as you can.' His hands moved from Sheik's shoulders to his face, cupping it between shaking palms, `please, please you have to run.'

Sheik's face contorted in offense, he swatted Link's hands away and stepped backwards, out of reach. `What the fuck! Just because I'm Sheikah and I let you screw me doesn't me you can order me to leave now you're done with me. My people have been here just as fucking long as yours. If you have a problem with that, you leave, you-'

`Shut up. Shut up and listen to me.' Link cut Sheik off. He stepped forward, grabbing the boy again, `They're going to come for you, oh Goddesses, they're going to come and take you away. You have to run, hide, whatever, you have to . . . you have to. . . '

He let out a frustrated growl. He was panicking and the closest to crying he'd been in years. He had to keep the boy safe, had to hide him. There was no way he would survive if they took Sheik from him. The realisation that this was true shook him almost as much as the knowledge of what might happen to Sheik. He knew what happened to the ones that disappeared in the night. He knew where they were taken and what happened when they got there, and there was no way he was going to let that happen to Sheik. There was no way in hell he'd let them take the boy.

`What?'

Sheik looked at him, angry, confused, and then they heard it, the announcement on the wireless, drifting through from the other room.

`The king is dead, long live the king.'

`No.'

The syllable came out long and breathless, Link watched Sheik break. The king had died, there was no natural heir. Ganondorf, with all his guile, had inserted himself into the line of succession, he was king now. It didn't matter that he was Gerudo and not even Hylian himself. He was the one who had pushed for segregation, the one who'd orchestrated turning public opinion against the `foreign races'. He was the one who'd brought about the ghettos, identity papers, curfews and restrictions and now he was king. There were no Goddesses and there was no Scared Realm, but there was a hell, they were in it.

Link wrapped his arms around Sheik, hugging him tightly, `I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

The boy began to cry into his jacket, ugly, shuddering, silent sobs spat out by a broken heart. He held him until the tears stopped. When they did, Link leant down, pressing his lips to Sheik's. They shared their first kiss as the world fell apart around them.

But Miss Black Eyeliner, you'd look finer, with each day in hiding
Beneath the wormwood, ooh love me so good.
They won't hear us screw away the day, I'll make you say;

(Alive! Alive! Alive with love, alive with love tonight)

They used lips and tongues to muffle one another as they undulated in unison, hot and sweaty and desperate. There was barely enough room for the both of them in the hidden attic room, but it didn't matter, they melted and melded together every time they came together there. Bare chest heaved against bare chest. Legs splayed out around him, he settled one over his shoulder, changing angle, thrusting deeper.

Sheik pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, desperately trying to keep his moans inside. He couldn't, he couldn't stop the noise treading its way out of him when Link began to stroke his aching erection in time with the thrusting. He felt hot breath against his ear,

'Shhhhhhhhh.'

They had to be silent, neither one of them was supposed to be there. They had to be silent and stay hidden, but it was so hard. The feeling of his lover inside him, filling him up and destroying him with swift, confident thrusts, gentle touches and hot, open mouthed kisses made with want to keen and moan and scream Link's name over and over again. But he had to keep it inside, he had to pray that Link knew how good this made him feel from the way his body writhed and burned. He could feel himself getting closer, closer to the blinding stars that filled his vision every time Link made him come.

Sheik opened his eyes and found hazy blue ones staring back down at him. Link was biting his lip, trying just as hard as Sheik to make no sound. He pushed himself up on his elbows, reaching up to kiss lips chewed bright red, and moaning gently into Link's mouth as he came. Link felt the orgasm shudder through Sheik, felt him tighten around his cock and whisper his name against his lips. He could hold out no longer, couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. He back arched, and he spent himself inside his lover, gasping out Sheik's name as quietly as he could.

They cleaned themselves as best they could, moving carefully around each other in the tiny space, before settling down. They clung to each other, each one pretending they wouldn't have to part again soon. However hard they found the situation they were in, it was infinitely better than the alternative. The raids were becoming more frequent, they took jewellery, paintings, watches and people. Anyone who resisted was paid a visit in the middle of the night by soldiers with body bags. The city was terrified, too scared to try and stop what was happening and too horrified to look away. They told themselves that isn't what they had wanted. This isn't what they'd signed up for. None of them wanted to admit that maybe, just maybe, they'd all been had by the charismatic tyrant they'd unleashed.

Link came as often as he could without arousing suspicion, making it look like he was just visiting the couple who had run the orphanage he'd grown up in. No one knew about the boy behind the panelling in the attic, and no one could ever know. He was inexpressibly grateful to the couple for taking Sheik in, for hiding him. When Link had come to them begging for help they agreed immediately, glad that he hadn't become the man they feared he might've when he'd first joined the army. Link brought extra food or clothes for Sheik, and once, he came bearing a photograph he'd salvaged from Sheik's old home.

He'd felt bad, asking Sheik to leave the place he'd grown up in. He felt even worse when he learnt that the flat and all it contained were the only things Sheik had left of the woman who had raised him. It had been a risk, going back there, someone could have asked what he was doing, but he knew he had to find that photograph. It was of a much younger Sheik and Impa, his aunt, a bittersweet reminder of a time when Sheik had been free to be who he was without fearing for his life. He'd cried when Link gave it to him, whispering thank you over and over.

Whatever happened, whatever he had to do, Link would never, ever, let them take Sheik.

No, I won't let them take you, won't let them take you
Hell, no no, oh, no I won't let them take you, won't let them take you.
Hell, no, no

Our Treblinka is alive with the glory of love
Treblinka, alive with the glory of love, yeah

The world was ending. He was running as fast as he could, sweat falling into his eyes. He had to get there first. He had to get there first and protect the only thing that mattered in the whole world.

Should they catch us and dispatch us to those separate work camps
I'll dream about you, I will not doubt you with the passing of time

Link hammered on the door, holding his breath until it opened. When it did he burst inside, knocking over the woman who'd opened it. He stood in their kitchen, out of breath and dishevelled, with blind panic in his eyes. This man and woman had cared for him as a child, along with many others, and he'd as good as sent them to their deaths.

`Run.' He choked the words out, `they're coming. Run.'

He turned on his heel, sprinting upstairs. He clattered into the attic and ripped the hidden door off its hinges. A very startled Sheik scrambled into the corner of the tiny hidden room, fists up to defend himself. He lowered his hands when he saw who it was. The expression on Link's face told him everything he needed to know. The worst thing that could possibly happen was happening. The soldiers were coming.

A hand closed around his and Link pulled him out of the attic and downstairs. They headed to the back door. The couple who'd been sheltering him already stood there, two small bags at their feet. The woman smiled kindly at them, a pair terrified boys trying not to cry.

`Time to go' she held her hand out to Sheik, who took it with shaking fingers.

Link had his hand on the door handle, he twisted it and pushed. They stepped out; ready to flee, but found they had nowhere to run.

`Lance Corporal step away from the traitors and the scum they have been harbouring.'

`Don't you dare call them that!' Link screamed at the soldiers, the street, the world in general. He stood there, breath coming in heavy pants, teeth bared and eyes wide and feral.

`You will do as you are ordered Lance Corporal.' The word ordered was heavily stressed.

Link was like a caged wolf, all claws and fangs and desperate to escape. There was only one thing he could do. He seized Sheik by the shoulders, and pulled them together. Everything, every single part of him and everything he felt went into that kiss. It was wonderful and terrible and sweet. It was desperate and dazzling and it tasted like tears. They parted and Link spoke, gentle and low,

`I love you, now run.'

He turned away, drew his pistol and shot the Sergeant Major.

Sheik's safe keepers took advantage of the confusion. He broke one soldier's nose, and she delivered a swift kick to the groin of another. They grabbed Sheik and ran. He struggled and screamed and wept. He threw his arms out, reaching for Link but his fingers closed on empty air. He watched as they beat Link to the floor. He watched as the street turned red. He watched until he couldn't bear to watch anymore. Then he ran.

Should they kill me, your love will fill me, as warm as the bullets
I'll know my purpose. This war was worth this. I won't let you down.
No I won't,
No I won't,
No, I won't

Link stared blankly at his commanding officers as they court marshalled him. He wasn't sure if that was a product of the amount of morphine in him or because he just didn't care what happened to him now. There had been quite a long wait between them scraping him off the street and his trial. Even now a cadre of medical professionals stood nearby in case his body gave out before they could sentence him. He was barely recognisable, just a collection of shattered bones and stitches shoved into a uniform. At least he didn't hurt anymore. It turned out that opiates soothed all manner of aches, even ones in places no one could see.

They were talking to him. Dull blue eyes found the speaker, a Major General judging by his insignia. He concentrated, fighting the drug induced fugue so he could listen.

`Lance Corporal, given your previously outstanding service record, we are willing to accept that your actions were the result of some kind of ensnarement placed upon you by the non-Hylian filth. So, with suitable, ah,' the Major General paused, searching for the word he wanted, `re-education, and retraining you will be allowed to resume your service, though you will be stripped of your rank.'

`No.' He screwed his eyes shut, opening them again in the hope that they'd regained the ability to focus.

`You will address your superiors properly, soldier.' It was a Colonel barking at him this time.

Link shook his head, everything blended together a little as he did, `No, Sheik never made me do anything. But I did do it for him.'

He reached deep, dragging clarity out of the morphine riddle mire of his mind. They would not take the only good thing he'd ever done from him. They wouldn't take him and break him down until he no longer knew his own name, then rebuild him into some mindless agent of genocide. He would not let them. He would die before he became like them. And, if they killed him, if they sent him to the firing squad, so be it. He would greet death with the memories of his lover, and he would go smiling.

`I love him, and I would do it all over again if I had to.'

`Then you leave us no choice, perhaps the dysentery or the desert heat will kill you before the guards find cause to. Take him to the camp.'

(Alive! Alive!)
(Alive with love, alive with love tonight)
Hell no no, oh no, (Alive! Alive!)
I won't let them take you, won't let them take you,
(Alive with love, alive with love tonight)
Hell, no, no,
No, no

It took four years for the trickle of resistance to turn into a tidal wave. Four years of fear and people disappearing in the dark; of curfews and police brutality; of concentration camps and public executions. The resistance found some distant, forgotten cousin of the old king to use as a figure head. They reminded people of the halcyon days of the monarchy and fed the unrest with tales of atrocities carried out in the desert. The civil war went on for another two years, nearly as many people died in it as during Ganondorf's reign. But finally, finally, it was over.

After the fences came down thousands of bodies, broken and starved and fuelled by hatred alone, worked to turn that place into its own funeral pyre. Link watched the camp burn. He could no longer stand up straight, his muscles had been cannibalised by his own body in an attempt to keep him alive, and his bones stood out stark against too pale skin. Scars stretched over his skin like spider webs and a myriad of poorly set broken bones left him struggling to move. His hair was gone, lost to the regular sheerings enforced by the camp commandant, and the traitor's brand they'd given him arched across his chest. But, despite all that, and everything that had happened and the things he'd seen, his sky blue eyes had never gone dull. He wasn't broken, not completely, not now, not ever.

Members of the resistance moved through the crowds of skeletal prisoners, some offering medical attention and others looking for lost family or friends. A shaking hand fell on Link's shoulder. He turned. Time left nothing untouched. He wasn't looking at a boy anymore, taller now and much broader, Sheik was undeniably a man. Link lifted a hand, painfully and slowly, to touch the scar that ran down Sheik's face, leaving one beautiful tawny red eye ruined and sightless. Sheik turned his head so he could press kisses into Link's palm, before pulling him into his arms. He held Link as if he was of glass and paper and said the words he'd been waiting six years to say;

`I love you too.'

Hi, first off, while this is the creation of my fevered little imagination I neither own the Legend of Zelda nor the song Alive With The Glory Of Love by Say Anything (which you should listen to because it's really very good). I hope you enjoyed this one shot, it was simultaneously brilliant and terrible to write. I've never written sex before and I really hope my attempts aren't worthy of the Bad Sex in Fiction Award (it exists, Google it).

Finally, I just want to say thanks for checking this story out, you're awesome!

Freckles.