This Chapter (and most of the fic) heavily inspired by Calvin Haris's Sweet Nothing, featuring Florence Welch.

Don't own don't sue, please review.

Cross posted at AO3

"Lovino," that voice, deep and warm as the sunlight itself drifted to him over the waves of his distraction. The searing press of skin on skin, hands at his shoulders, brushing his face, the small of his back. It was all so beautiful, too beautiful. He refused to fall for this same old ruse again—he must be dreaming. He kept his eyes shut tight, too sure of what he'd see and too afraid of his own wanting. "Lovino, despierta mi corazón," the voice persisted, his words threading through Lovino's very core, stirring the hurt he hid there. He didn't want to. He really didn't want to, but he couldn't help it. When had he ever been able to deny that man anything? He opened his eyes and was rendered breathless by what he saw.

"Can't wake up in a dream, idiot." He told the gorgeous phantasm before him, trying not to think too hard about the too-real feeling of that perfect body tangled up with his, the sight of tanned skin rising up from white sheets.

"No?" His tormentor laughed, and the sound was full of light. Antonio was there, just as he'd known he would be, far too close and tracing lazy designs over every bit of Lovino's skin he could reach. He trembled beneath the Spaniard's touch, terrified of the feelings it woke in him. "What can you do then?" Antonio shifted as he spoke, pinning Lovino back against his pillows, pressing his muscled thigh between Lovino's legs and stealing the breath from his lungs. Lovino's traitorous hands reached out automatically to grasp at the firm flesh of broad shoulders.

"Not that," he protested weakly, even as his arms strained to pull Antonio closer. He didn't want this—knew all too well where this was going and where it would leave him, but he was too weak to his own desires to stop.

"Are you sure?" Antonio teased, the movement of his lips close enough to brush maddeningly against the junction of neck and shoulder. He planted a kiss against the pulse he found there, and Lovino shuddered. "Is it possible for me to convince you otherwise?" He punctuated every other word with a kiss, trailing them upwards until he could meet Lovino's lips.

More than anything else, it was that kiss that always hurt the most. It was the loveliest kind of torture—so wonderful and so sweet and so completely out of his reach in reality. Antonio's mouth slid so effortlessly and perfectly against his own, and Lovino could do nothing but bend beneath the weight of this emotion. It was too easy to imagine—too easy to pretend that Antonio might actually….

He broke the kiss and arched against the body above him in a vain attempt to escape, gasping as he only pressed himself further into Antonio's unyielding form.

"Lovi, mi querido." His lover in dreams smiled down at him, eyes alight with hopeless affection. He didn't know why his own mind sought to hurt him like this. Antonio never looked at him like that and meant it—never gave him anything more than empty smiles and platitudes. "Have I convinced you yet?" He wanted to say no, wanted to push the illusion away and ground himself in reality again, but the temptation was too strong. Antonio's chest felt so real beneath his trembling fingertips, the green of his eyes was so blindingly deep.

"M-maybe," he stuttered, playing along because he didn't know what else to do. He wanted to just wake up, and he dreaded it all the same. He wanted to take what fantasy offered, but whatever comfort this dream could give him would only hurt all the worse in the end for its unattainable beauty.

"Only maybe? Well, perhaps I should try again?" Antonio jested, sliding down to trail more hot, open-mouthed kisses across Lovino's chest, chipping away at whatever sense of resolve or pride he had left. Every kiss was as careful and deliberate as the last, each one a tiny declaration of emotion that wracked him with sweet ache. It was all Lovino could do to hold still, too afraid of shattering the illusion to move. "Lovino," the Spaniard drawled, letting his hands wander further below the sheets, teasing with fingertips at the space blow his navel, at the tops of his thighs until he thought he must be going mad. Antonio slid further still, killing Lovino with anticipation as he lavished attention on the fluttering muscles of his stomach, on the dip of his hip bones, on the seam of his legs but never the place he really wanted. He squirmed involuntarily, unsettled by how easy it was to lose himself to this. "Lovi, what about now?" The bastard whispered against the skin of his inner thigh, his breath puffing tantalizingly against Lovino's erection.

He couldn't help himself. He was powerless to his own fantasy,

"Yes," he called helplessly, and nearly died as that beautiful mouth took him in. He fisted his hands in the pillow next to his head, daring to look down at the image his twisted mind had decided to conjure in sleep. Antonio was lathing and sucking at him, his head bobbing obscenely, one hand wrapped around the base and the other pressed firmly against his shaking hip. Lovino felt as if he might burn into nothing under the heat of Antonio's passion. He bucked into it, felt all the more turned on when Antonio's strength held him firmly down. That mouth worked just so, just right to make him nearly loose his mind and forget himself in the pleasure of it.

It was Antonio's gaze that kept him from spiraling entirely into mindlessness. Those Emerald orbs were open, watching him, marking his every sigh and pleasured motion, making sure this was good for him. Antonio looked at him as if he wanted nothing more than Lovino's satisfaction, Lovino's happiness. As if he really cared, truly and undyingly and he just couldn't—

The suction was too perfect and the timing of dreams hazy; it didn't take long for him to meet the rush of completion, screaming his loved one's name in that one, white instant. He felt tears at the corners of his eyes and knew they were not wholly from pleasure.

Callused fingers brushed gently against his lashes, wiping the liquid away. He came back down to earth and found Antonio hovering over him again, his careful, too tender gaze too close to avoid. Lovino's heart contracted painfully at the look, his words trapped in his throat.

"Te quiero, mi amor," Antonio murmured, so sincerely, so earnestly, and he….

It couldn't happen. It would never happen and he couldn't fool himself any longer. The dream shattered and Lovino with it.