"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" shattered glass spread around the porcelain sink, catching the light at different angles.

It had been a whole month since the last time he had seen the fucking bastard and he was still being tormented. He couldn't get those green eyes and dark brown curls out of his head. The feel of those strong hands, long fingers - the hot breath that would fan across his neck as a smirk would pull at the ends of sinful lips.

"My, my, you look so edible," he turned around in the small bathroom, trying to find the voice that had been haunting him for days but he was alone. His breathing picked up as he felt the trail of fingers ghost about his skin.

Dammit Romano! Keep it together! He's not here!

But it was futile. The shards that he was sure had littered the ground were back into their original places. His hands were still bleeding and when he looked into the mirror, he found that pirate right behind him. He tried to move but found himself trapped between a muscular body and the ceramic sink before him.

"You have such a beautiful scent," the gruff voice behind him made his body tremble.

He glared at the reflection, "What the hell are you doing here? Get off me!"

Struggling was useless and it only seemed to anger the being behind him. A darker scowl caught his own and he felt a blush come to his face. He hated how weak he felt against him. He couldn't break free of his grasp and he didn't want to.

"Say my name," green eyes watched him carefully as kisses were planted down his neck. His white button down was roughly pulled from the collar and he hissed when the cloth dug into his skin. The sound of a button hitting the tiled floor made him look to his side.

"Like hell I will," he refused to give the Spaniard any more power over him.

Chuckles filled the now tiny space and he felt goose-bumps crawl up his spine. He knew the sound and part of him couldn't wait for what was to come. His more sane side felt disgust and wanted to cry out until someone came to save him but he knew it would be futile. He lived alone and his brother wouldn't be here until about an hour.

It's all in your head.

He shut his eyes until he couldn't see anything behind his eyelids – until his face felt like it would swallow itself. This was just some game that the bastard was playing. He was alone. Alone in his house. It was just him.

His eyes flew open when he felt razor sharp teeth skimming across his neck, over his pulse, and suddenly, everything became louder. He could hear his teeth chattering slightly, the deep and painful breaths that escaped his trembling lips, and the sound of the Spaniard humming – contemplating.

He moaned when his curl was tugged and within seconds his hips were bucking and his head was lolling to the side, exposing his neck to a nightmare.

"Call out to me," the Spaniard commanded once more but he refused to say anything.

A scowl deeper than the ocean replaced the amused grin on his tormentor and everything stopped. He hated the whimper that escaped his sinful mouth. His pants had become too tight, his hands could only hold onto the sink for support, and his face had become flushed.

He let out another whine when a rock-hard erection pushed him against the sink harder. A groan escaped the man behind him and that was the key to unlocking everything.

"An-Antonio…" he whispered, his face red for too many reasons.


"Fratello~! Ve~! Are you ready to go now?" he could hear the high-pitched voice of his brother coming from behind his door.

"Yeah, yeah," he called out as he put on his shoes and stepped out of his home.

"Fratello?" the confusion was clearly there and I knew what he wanted to know.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," he answered automatically. Feliciano knew not to ask more. He knew that his body had been bruised by invisible hands and he knew that he had called someone to fix his bathroom mirror again. His only mirror, since he had gotten every other removed one month ago.