He didn't deserve the boy, he told himself. And it's true. He didn't deserve this boy - no; man - pressing open-mouthed kisses down his stomach to right there. He felt so unworthy, looking into those innocent eyes that bared their soul to him. The pure eyes that were burning with lust and passion, all for him. All for him. He wasn't pure enough for this man, this man with the creamy olive skin, so smooth to the touch. How could he compare to his lover with his ugly, marred skin, scars crisscrossing into letters that spelled out a story of pain and death. Human death. The loss of so many lives just for the promise of a few more inches of land, land that was as pure and untouched as his lover.

His love. His name even sounded like the word. Lovino Vargas, eldest son of Romulus Vargas. The flame of passion - dare he say compassion? - in Antonio's life. They were kissing now, blood from a bitten lip dripping down Lovino's chin. Antonio licked it off, quickly returning to Lovino's lips, bloodlust in his tainted eyes. When had blood stopped being a bad thing? When he was given his war axe? The black, smooth, shiny instrument of death that served its purpose all too well? Was that when blood meant gold coins in his pocket and a few extra moments with Lovino? That pure heart that had captured his own impure one. The eyes that had only seen sunshine and happiness, laughter and summertime, the joy of true love. Lovino had never felt the cold hard truth of heartbreak, of wanting and waiting but never having. He got what he wanted, never knowing how cruel life really was. How cruel life was to the love that burned between two men.

Lovino was spent, head resting gently on Antonio's chest. Antonio wondered how he ever deserved such a beautiful creature. Antonio, one that had killed hundreds of thousands just for his name to live on forever. Antonio, the one who held that war axe, blood dripping down the handle all the way to his hands. Antonio, the one with the smile that turned a little more insane with each swing of his axe. He was holding Lovino so gently in his arms, eyes and smile soft. Antonio knew why he wouldn't let Lovino go; he knew it in his selfish heart. He wanted, no, needed someone that loved him. He needed someone that loved him and not the gold coins in his pocket. He needed someone who needed him to come home, lived to see him. And even if Lovino ever realized he was too good for Antonio, if Lovino ever left, Antonio would at least remember this. The tender touches and needy kisses, the bright eyes and the sweet smile that Lovino had when Antonio finally came back home. For even if the love they shared burned out like a fire, at least it burned brightly.