It was almost as if the blade that danced along his cheek was from a past life, ages ago, and yet he still clung closer, listening to the harsh beauty of a voice that could be far more dangerous than it was now.
Gilbert watched the man before him, caught the glee in his vivid eyes, and wondered why he'd been so drawn to a man with such evil intent.
He watched the Italian step closer and listened as if for the whisper of skin making contact as the man before him, crept forward and kissed him with the taste of nearly bitter pasta sauce on his tongue.
Kissing Luciano like this was almost like the dangerous bite of a bullet to torn flesh yet mixed with the temptations of taking just another swig of beer to water down the war wounds that still clung to your mind.
Gilbert pulled him closer, felt that red sauce pool over his tongue in a nearly metallic taste yet it held on to that bitter quality that even blood did not tend to carry with it.
He marveled over the way soft, tan skin fit in his palms as he held the other man by his waist and yet marveled farther even tanner skin on top of pale as moonlight, as the white sands of beaches, bleached of color skin.
It reminded him of the zigzag of passion in his veins that merged with reality and made it sweeter despite any lasting twinges of negativity.
Kissing Luciano was like walking head first into your own death and finding the almost peaceful field of life just prior to that.
It was the gentle symphony of pleasure and danger that merged in his veins; he'd always been a risk taker but never one so infatuated with a risk quite like this one.
It wasn't like they didn't fight, that they didn't tear each other apart with words and actions; they thrilled over a good, drawn out fight and yet savored the slow passion of a kiss that just barely avoided harsh boundaries.
Gilbert bit his lip when Luciano pulled back, tasted blood, and heard that sneer of, "You should have let me."
He couldn't resist the shiver of the thought, of letting that other man take over as simply as that, and Prussia had never been one to simply allow another complete control over his being.
"Should I have, Luci?" Out fell that old nickname that Feliciano had given Luciano when he discovered that his alter did not long to hurt him and destroy everything that made Feliciano Feliciano.
"What do you think?" He purred as he closed that widening gap between them in just a simple brush of skin on skin as his teeth tugged Gilbert's lip closer to his mouth, and he savored the taste of blood on his tongue; Gilbert's blood always had a spark of life that everyone else's lacked.
Luciano breathed deep, breathed him in, and savored the slightly dazed look on Gilbert's face as he pulled him tighter against himself, no amount of space between them could change the way they curled closer, could stop the steady tug and pull of him closer.
The Italian breathed the Prussian in further, tan skin pressed tight against pale skin, and wondered why they had been sent to live in different worlds without the thrill of this relationship or whatever it really was.
Gilbert clung close, and all Luciano could feel anymore was Gilbert, warm against him, breathing him in as if he savored the unique taste of Luciano.
The Italian couldn't help that he brushed Gilbert's hair back as they parted, sweat clinging to him as if kissing had become so strenous once Luciano was involved.
He smirked and watched as Gilbert quickly collected his thoughts, released another worn out breath through a sigh, and moved closer to huddle for just a moment longer before some long since dead preservation technique tugged him further away from Luciano before giving up as he'd stare; Luciano had never been a cuddler, but with Gilbert, it seemed okay and never lasted long.
Luciano smiled slightly as his heart slowly settled back into a calmer rhythm and tried to ignore the way his body sang out for Gilbert, for the Prussian that had become too much for him.
He'd have to admit in the far off corners of his mind that Gilbert was attractive; his pale skin stood on as if paler, brighter than the moon, his red eyes stood out like blood on a freshly fallen corpse, and his hair stood silver like the wealth of clean silver.
Luciano figured that Gilbert was the physical representation of all that he thrilled over; he'd after all been paid to kill others before, savored the moonlit nights that he'd set out for the task, just bright enough to see while being dark enough to hide, the bodies splayed out, life since erased from them, and the wad of cash that always met him back at whoever had hired him.
He couldn't help but love that image in his head though he figured that Gilbert as 'kind' as he was wouldn't appreciate the comparison while others would find it so unromantic.
Luciano didn't claim to be normal, never tried to be, and yet he savored a mostly healthy relationship with the man across from him who relaxed his shoulders and sat down carefully, looking every bit well loved.
The Italian couldn't help but smirk when he realized that yet again this man was only his to kiss, to purr his name into his veins, and his to devour in the way that lovers sought.
He figured that perhaps the sizzle in their veins could calm as he stood up straighter and wandered into the kitchen to cook dinner, not at all admitting to where he'd gotten the ingredients for the sauce as he moved with ease through his own kitchen, enjoying the slight contentment over having a little bit of a domestic relationship, loving and bizarre as it was.