This was the last time. I swear it.
No more glancing over my shoulder to see if you've followed me. No more trembling as I linger inside the corridor that separates our rooms, listening, waiting for the sound of your footsteps. No more holding my heart in my mouth, worrying if I'd get caught with my legs wrapped around your waist, concealed by nothing as you pound into me in broad daylight. No more would I let myself linger in limbo, my mind fluctuating so suddenly from sinful thoughts of anticipation, my heart thundering against my ribs as you graze your cold fingers along my skin... to an icy guilt, freezing my heart still as I watch you leave me so casually again and again.
I can't let this keep happening – it's too maddening. The rush isn't enough anymore. I want to feel.
It was just a get together. Nobody planned it, nobody pinned the other in a corner – nothing malicious like that. It was all consensual... and every time since. Our meetings stand as a series of gloriously impulsive moments that no one would have imagined possible. Not between us, at least.
In the cold stillness, when you last left me, I realised I wasn't okay anymore. I want you by my side all the time; not just for fifteen minutes between world meetings. I can't deal with us behaving like this, not being a real couple. I want us to be acceptable. Normal. That's what I want. Is it so unbelievable that while I look forward to this... this seedy union every week during recess... I want us to mature, evolve, together?
Just one random fuck. That's all it was. And now look at where that's led me, us.
Once again our lips crash together as he found me alone in the corridor, waiting for him. My heart fluttered as his rough hands felt their way up, beneath my shirt, grabbing at me, pulling me closer.
I couldn't stop to marvel at his beautiful eyes or feel his sculpted body. There was no time for playful foreplay or teasing. I could only mould myself against him, ready to be lifted into place; our time cruelly limited to just our practised, tested routine. Still, he always managed to surprise me. There was always something a little new each time that added to the pleasure of our meetings. But this time was different. He seemed hurried, relentless. It felt like he wanted in and out of me as quickly as possible, and then out of my sight. Perhaps he sensed my feelings... sensed that this meeting wasn't another little nothing, in my eyes?
There was little time to ponder this, however, as satisfaction suddenly exploded inside me, a firework obliterating everything but its own magnificence. He was inside me again, our bodies entwined like twisting roots. My left hand found his thick hair, my fingers tangling themselves in its mass, while my right hand grabbed for support as I straightened my back, shifting myself for something deeper, harder.
The friction between our bodies ignited a fire in both of us, our temperatures quickly rising to match the ferocity of our simple need to be inside each other. Pearls of sweat soon started tumbling down my brow as he finally pushed forwards. Finding his shoulder, I busied my mouth on his skin, desperate to muffle my voice.
This was perfect... so terribly perfect.
"I love you," was all I whispered. Then he stopped. My words uttered so quietly seemed to echo through the corridor, each word loud, precise and gasping.
The heat of the moment died with those words, leaving us standing silent, positioned together in a chaotic mix of experienced balance and uncomfortable raw need. My hips ached from the angle I'd been holding them in, and the back of my head burned a little where it'd connected with the wall seconds ago. I never realised how uncomfortable, how painful all this was until all the emotion suddenly evaporated into a hollow nothingness.
Gently, he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, his eyes flashing with a look I wasn't familiar with. He was almost... sad. A ghost of his former glory. Fear twisted inside my stomach, threatening to envelop me entirely. He suddenly felt like a stranger inside me. I wanted him to love me, rock me into gentle fervour, clasp at my skin and pour himself into me. The minutes passing felt like they were slowly grinding to a halt around us. But this couldn't stop. I didn't want any of it to stop.
He leaned into me, his back relaxing as he held me close. "Don't make this difficult," he muttered, grazing his teeth on my shoulder. I could hear his primal breathing slow into something more controlled. It scared me so much to think he was still in me, but no longer wished to be.
My mouth stuttered opened, a muted gasp slipping from my lips as he pulsed hard and pushed forwards. A splash of crimson spread like ink across my cheeks as he regained his earlier rhythm. In that moment of ecstasy, I believed everything was fine, stars blurring my vision, a gentle tingling creeping up my spine. I rested my head back on the concrete wall I was propped against, a headache lingering in the shadows of my pleasure. I just had to... let him finish first.
I felt his fingernails stab into my skin, drawing down my back like blades as he groaned, a familiar warmth filling me. I held onto him tightly, scared to fall from the high, as he ran his lips along my neck upwards to my earlobe. I rocked against him, my back arching as a moan spilled from my lips, the wholesomeness, the hardness, the joy of him slipping into me again. How perfectly shameful of us.
Finally, he carefully let me down. He leant against me, catching his breath. My legs threatened to buckle but I was determined to stay standing this time, by myself, to address him with all the confidence that I hadn't yet forgotten. Eventually, my breathing settled but my heart felt no calmer as I opened my mouth to speak-
"Do you even know what love is?" he stated, a little amused.
Nothing... I could say absolutely nothing.
"So, same place, same time next week?" he continued passively, doing up his belt and tucking in his shirt. When I didn't reply, he merely shrugged his shoulders, turning around and waving his goodbyes as he continued back down the corridor without me.
I watched him, completely lost in myself, until he disappeared from view. Even then I followed him, listening tentatively to his soft footsteps as he returned to the meeting room before his footfall was lost to the rumble of talking inside and the thundering echo of the double doors slamming shut. I was alone in the silence. That empty awful silence. Just like last time. Just like every single 'last' time.
My legs finally giving way, I slid down the wall into a crumpled, half-naked heap on the cold floor. I couldn't believe it. Although I had already prepared myself for this scenario, I had hoped so much for its alternative that I stupidly believed that we could become a proper couple... believed that these little nothings of ours were finally over. Too late does it finally dawn on me that he never loved me like I did him. He just wanted someone for a quick fuck. Well, guess what, no longer do I wish to be your cheap thrill. Not anymore... Don't you see? All I ever wanted was for you to love me. Even if it was only a little.
I made up my mind long ago that this was the last time. And now I swear it really is.
I'm sorry.
"Goodbye, Prussia..." Italy whispered.
Author's Note: Just a short oneshot I wished to share with you. It hurts, doesn't it, Italy? Please review :)