"Mr. Carriedo."
The words are painful. No matter how formal they are represented, and no matter how your brain interprets it.
"…Please…will you sit?"
Such a fiery touch, so painful…yet so full of pleasure. Hot, sweaty hands aggressively slide down my body, wanting more. His fingertips dig deep into my skin, as if trying to peel away my exterior. I can never understand why this is the only time I've ever felt such a poisonous touch from him. He shutters and his breath lashes against my stomach. Shakily, he holds me down, as my hands grip his hair, my fingers knotting into his own rich curls. The sweet sensation of his silky locks, intertwining with my needy hands. His tongue presses against my abdomen, shoving itself upwards to my chest. It's hot…sticky…and most importantly, desperate. I forced myself to choke down moans and whimpers, and it's possibly the hardest thing I've ever tried to do. He doesn't look at me, as his mouth instead explores my front. It was like a vast stretch of land to him, as he tried to explore and uncover each dip in the land. He trailed his tongue over each of my skin pours, as it was unacceptable to neglect even one.
I wanted to scream his name, but now wasn't the time. He stared at my stomach, tracing my muscles, and I felt him swallow.
"…Mr. Carriedo…please…sit."
Refusal is a large part of life. Refusing to accept, refusing to deny…it all boils down to stubbornness…which boils down further to…not facing the truth.
We sit.
"…The tests came back, Mr. Carriedo…and…" he sighs, "I'm sorry…to have to inform-"
"Spit it out."
He shifts his position, sliding upwards, meeting my nipples. Eagerly, hungrily…he takes one into his overheated mouth, and his tongue begins to play. While his tongue finds games to play with my right nipple, his hands grip my own, in a painful vice grip. I feel his breathing increase, and he patiently begins to tend to the other. He still does not look at me. I dare to speak…it comes out as a whisper…a whimper of sorts. Maybe I never even say it.
"Ant…Antonio…" I hope my voice transfers. He does not look up from his work. Instead, he continues upwards once more, as he presses his dry lips against my neck. One of his hands, leave my own, and trails down to my leg, where he messages my upper thigh. Moaning into my skin, he sent a flurry of butterfly kisses up my jaw, to my ear, and back again. I tilted my head, enjoying the stinging sensation of his lips. It was an antagonizing punishment for both of us, as our painful pleasure continued.
Yet no matter how bad it hurt…no matter how much we wanted the pain to stop, we did not stop our activity.
His lips were now brushing lightly against my own, before he gave me a bruising and assaulting kiss. I moaned, I couldn't help it, as our tongues intertwined in a complicated dance.
I slid my arms around his broad neck, and he pressed himself against me. Both of us were scared to death. No one wanted this. No one wanted this at all.
Yet to accept it, we had to continue.
"Due to…your condition," the doctor continued.
I hate doctors who do not just bluntly explain what the hell the problem is.
"Fucking spit it out!" I demanded harshly, my hand clenching Antonio's.
I could feel our personal heat press against each other. I pulled him closer, as his hips rolled against mine. The friction was delicious. It caused my legs to wind around his waist on their own accord… Before I could stop, I bucked my hips. Antonio let out a throaty groan, and broke our kiss. I couldn't stand it anymore. I grabbed his face, my hands cupping his cheeks lightly.
"…Antonio."
That's all I said. He stared at me, those once brilliant shimmering eyes of love and happiness, now faded and replaced with dullness of mourn and grief. He still did not speak. But I managed to see him. He allowed himself to see me. He buried his face into my neck, as his hands began to wander and roam my skin. The toxic feel of our touches burned both of us badly. It was a scar that we allowed to form. We let it singe into our souls and we allowed it to brand our skin. Though no one could see the brand, we would forever know it was there. His hands massaged my thigh, then began to rub my sex. I groaned, holding his shoulders, gripping them.
He smiled slightly, a darkness emanating out of that once pure smile. He slowly stroked me, and I couldn't help but completely submit to his will. I held onto something, anything, the sheets, his shoulders…as he explored.
"Mr. Carriedo has two months. An accurate estimate from the results of our tests," the doctor finally states. He bit his lip.
I stared, unfazed. It was as if the doctor didn't even speak to us. My eyelids fluttered a bit, as I held tighter to Antonio. A pregnant silence grew, as nothing happened.
"…Two…"
I laid there, my legs open, ready for him. It was time. We had spent so much time, just touching, feeling, understanding… The passionate corrupt love we shared now…it had to have some relief. But our relief, would be our kill. It would kill us both. It would hurt more than any suicide. It would hurt more than any knife to the heart, bullet to the stomach.
"Tonio…" I sputtered, my tears crawling into my sockets, "Tonio!"
He grabbed my hips, and moved them with his own. Before long, he kissed my lips tenderly, before shoving himself inside. It was so painful. The shock of it all hit me so hard. I cried out as his entire length slid into me.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and I felt his nails dig into my sides. He began to move, and my hands desperately coiled around his neck.
"Antonio!" I cried out again, tears streaming down my face. They rushed down, no stopping them. God could not stop my tears.
"Antonio! Antonio!"
He thrust his hips in and out, and I could feel his acidy tears patter my bare chest. They hurt. So badly… He opened his eyes suddenly, his eyelids shooting open. God…I couldn't see them.
"Two months…" Antonio repeated.
"N-No…there's a mistake," I said, "There's always a mistake!"
The doctor shook his head, "…I'm sorry. There's nothing left…we can do."
That's when I screamed. I screamed the loudest, and the longest scream my life had ever witnessed.
My sight was flawed behind a wall of gushing tears. Antonio's eyes glistened with his own tears. He spoke for the first time, after that day. And it was not a simple word, it was not just said. It was wailed.
"Lovino!"
He began to chant my name, as a sort of mantra. His thrusting matching the timing of his chant. It stung, and it hissed against our skin, as our love making was mixed with tainted tears. Raw and deathly, they poisoned our lives. The tears shed from our eyes were the last we'd ever share together. Those damnable tears were also the laborious reminder that this was the last time, we would ever share a bed together.
He moved and I could feel him, inside me…for the last time. I screamed his name and I screamed it loud. Every time our skin slapped against each other again, we both cried.
My emotions were so…nonexistent. I couldn't think properly. I couldn't feel properly. All I knew was my Antonio was dying. And the last time I would ever see him alive and breathing, was on top of me, making love to me. I couldn't feel grief or mourning or fear. All I could feel was Antonio's hot body pressed against mine, in our last few moments together.
Our climax was the climax of our lives. I spewed myself onto his chest, and for the last time, his seed released into me. He collapsed, and I caught him the best I could.
We both trembled, and I hugged his panting body. I cried into his shoulder, as he weakly wrapped his arms around my figure.
"Antonio! Don't go!" I pleaded pathetically, "No, no, no! You-You can't just leave me here alone in this god damn world! Please! Please!"
He swallowed a mouthful tears I assumed, as he stroked my hair.
"I don't want to go…but tonight's the night God will take me. Don't worry, you'll do fine without me..."
"No! No!"
I awkwardly clung to his body, almost as if clinging to him could keep him here with me. Just a little bit longer.
I could feel his smile push against my now useless body.
"Loving you was the best thing I've ever done," he said simply, "I will always…love you."
It was the last time I heard his words. His mouth froze into a sentimental smile...his brilliant, emerald green eyes closed for the last time, their hue fuzzy and in a haze. And soon, after a few breaths...his breathing too ceased. I sputtered and gasped, my tears cascading down my red face. My Antonio...was now dead weight. Antonio's dead weight... At this exact second...I painfully registered the fact that I'd never see Antonio alive again.
The most important thing that my life revolved around had just brutally been taken away from me. Forever.
My skin was forever tainted, my lips forever poisoned, and my soul forever lost. His tears that had seeped into my skin, that had entered my body some time ago…I could still feel its crazy burn eating me away.
what is this I dont even. fuck this was terrible. It's a first draft too. I needed to write. Sorry for wasting internet. :T
edit: made any fixes to any mistakes. they were bugging the hell out of me xDD
r&r maybe. thanks for reading if you did.
-TC
Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya as well as Spain and Romano