The 'Fusoso' Cone of Doom:

Livid wouldn't describe how pissed off and moody I was right now. I was fucking furious. I had just been assaulted. Again. Nothing new right? And it's not like I could go to the cops either. Oh officer? My boss tried to force me into a dress against my will, all the while cackling like a maniac and groping every square inch of my body. I'd be a laughing stock is what I'm trying to get at here.

Although, I did manage to hold on my own. I thrashed and screamed like a wild animal. Liza didn't actually manage to get me to put on the full maid's uniform, however, which was an abominable green, frilly dress if you were wondering. It even had a matching bow, apron, and bandanna. All for the purpose of bringing out my supposedly 'smoldering' hazel eyes. Chigi. I know that I'm sexy. But I'm not an effeminate type of sexy. I'm manly as fuck, yo! Oh Dio. I really needed to stop listening to Alfred. His bastardly slang was beginning to get to me. Shit! I'm assimilating into fatass culture. Next thing I know, I'll be deep throating hamburgers and shooting guns at anything that threatens my entitled white privilege. I totally just got sidetracked on another irrelevant tangent, huh?

Anyways, by the grace of God, if there even was one in this hellish, pathetic excuse of a world, I didn't end up having to wear the maid's uniform. But only because I shrieked like a banshee and screamed bloody murder. In the end, Liza had no choice but to retreat back to her perverted lair -the storage room- and return her masterpiece -the dress- to the stock room, where it damn well belonged.

I did suffer from some casualties, however. Those casualties being several blows to my dignity. Liza still made me wear the matching bandana piece to my, ahem, her dress. It was to keep the hair out of my face. I have that bastard Antonio to thank for that. The asshole had been at the café all afternoon, and I had made it my mission to ignore him. All was swell until he got upset, because his ego is just that massive, and filed a complaint to Liza. I was thereby scolded for 'hiding' from the customers. Now Antonio could see my full blushing face. Just fucking wonderful. As if I wasn't already nervous about our date.

Si, pride alone designated me to keep my promise to that bastard. Not that I had much of a choice. Every hour, he looked at the clock, cupped his hand into a heart, and mouthed how long we had until our date. The gesture was kind of, sort of, sweet, I guess. He looked really excited. I couldn't help but smile at how silly he was. Even though I still hated him. Despite my racing heartbeat, and the blush, and just about every other wrong sensation down yonder. No, I will not elaborate. I'm not a flowery type of writer anyways. That's more like the style of this bello in my creative writing class. I never actually learned his name. All I know is that he has massive eyebrows. Hence, the nickname Browzilla. Heh. I can be pretty petty at times. You'll get used to it, eventually.

I let out a resigned sigh and succumbed to my unrelenting boredom. It was now eight PM. Business in the café was slow. They usually were on Sundays. Liza went AWOL the minute she heard that Roderich was back in town. Alfred was working in the kitchen; therefore, more food was being eaten than made. Matthew was waiting the tables by himself, courtesy of my selfish generosity. And as for me? I was standing by my usual post at the front counter. My cheek was pressed up against the cool, marble surface. It helped remove the heat from my face. I know for a fact that Antonio was staring at me. Which would explain why I hadn't bothered to move in two hours. It didn't help that Matthew snorted at me and muttered snide remarks under his breath as he passed in and out of the kitchen. It's true though. I wasn't being very helpful.

I groaned and buried my face into my arms. I still had a full hour of freedom before I would be subjected to whatever torture that that bastard had in store for me. Once fucking again, I spoke too soon. A soft, gentle hand, patted my head. I almost mistook that person for Feliciano, despite the fact that he wasn't working today. Sometimes he visited the café to bring me dinner. It was his turn to cook tonight anyways. Another thing to consider was that Feliciano was explicitly tied up about my date with Antonio. It was all that that air head could talk about for the past day or so. I wouldn't rule him out from coming here to spy on the progress of my 'relationship' with Antonio.

I leaned into the touch and grumbled my protests. When in reality I liked being touched. I liked it when people patted my hair. Even if that fucking bandanna was there in the way. I had this one stray curl that for whatever reason acted as an erogenous zone. Stroke that thing and I'm yours. Seriously. I become incoherent and not like myself at all. Most of the time I would find myself in someone's lap after having that curl stroked. Don't ask me why. I just do. It's one anomaly of mine that I'll never hope to figure out.

The hand hovered dangerously close to that very curl. I tensed. This person wasn't my fratello. Feliciano had the same curl problem and knew better than to touch it in public. Last time that had happened, I retaliated and we both had to hide in the bathroom until our 'problems' went away. It goes to say that we had both learned our lesson and would never try something like that ever again.

I lolled my head to the side only to gasp when I was met with the sight of bright green eyes. They were mere inches away from my face. Antonio grinned. He too had his head, or rather chin, resting on top of the front counter. He was using one hand to soothingly ruffle my hair. I started to move away, but Antonio did this weird shushing sound that uncannily held me in place. His smile brightened and my anger placated on instant.

"What do you think you're doing, bastard?" I grumbled, still nonetheless letting him pet my hair. It felt good and I was far too tired to care at this point.

"I don't see you complaining," Antonio chided, patronizing as ever. I turned my head away in defiance. Another, much fainter, blush crept over my face. I have to admit. This was a very cute gesture on his part. He didn't have to come up here and do this. Brave as it was for him to do so. He's just lucky that it wasn't busy right now.

"Tch," I huffed, ignoring his previous comment. "Our date doesn't start for another hour."

Antonio pouted. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. I knew that he knew that I was looking at him. Which had caused him to smirk, devilishly and frustratingly attractive at that. My hand twitched. So badly did I want to smooth back the chocolate brown curls from his eyes. He really was a puppy in that aspect. His hair was like unruly fur, his personality was always happy and cheerful, and he had an undying loyalty that I would never fathom to understand.

Why me? What made me so interesting to him? I wasn't special like my fratello. I had a shitty personality. Heck, the only thing that I'm good at is writing, a selfish, lonely profession where most people prefer to be alone. I never asked for his company, but I still nonetheless secretly enjoyed it. He was dumb, but pleasant to be around. His carefree way of speaking was quite relaxing to say the least. I didn't feel the need to impress him. Although, this was mainly because he was so obviously infatuated with me in the first place.

But still, this guy wasn't one for appearances. I mean for fuck's sakes, he was wearing an over-sized grey hoodie, loose denim capris, and sandals; it was apparent that he too didn't feel the need to show other people up, and I respected this sentiment. Hetalia University was full of fakes and posers. People dressed up and spoke big in order to feel better about themselves. But just by being with Antonio, I felt good, albeit feeling a bit frustrated and impatient. The Spaniard was a low key pervert. Not as bad as his loser friends, but still a pervert nonetheless.

"Can't you get off early?" he whined. The impatience in his voice struck up a chord with me. I haven't known him for that long. But even now, I could sense that he was going to be a needy, clingy sort of partner. I was also clingy. Although, I still did prefer to be alone. I didn't need people. I could survive without them. The way that Antonio was looking at me, however, told me that he wasn't that sort of person. He was someone who always needed to be surrounded by people, and the thought of this worried me. I liked to have my space. I was more comfortable being alone. I liked my privacy, but I liked him too? Well, this was sure going to be interesting. I'm just full of contradictions, aren't I?

"I don't know," I muttered. "Can I?"

Antonio opened his mouth to speak.

A conveniently 'visible' Canadian halted my stalling right in its tracks.

Matthew's head popped out of the kitchen door. "You most certainly can~" he sang, all the while giving me a cheeky, all-knowing grin. I grit my teeth. Damn Maple bastard. "It's not busy. You're free to go, if you want."

What I want is to shove a hockey stick up your smug little butthole… Or maybe I should let the pasty bastard have a go at your vital regions…

WHOOSH!

The next few seconds were a blur. I screamed out of both confusion and astonishment. Strong hands pulled me to my feet. Antonio undid my apron and bandanna, chucked them into the laundry bin under the front counter, and before I knew it, he was holding onto my hand and dragging me out of the café. Matthew stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled in encouragement. I flipped him the middle finger and nearly smacked into the front door while doing so. That blunder had earned me a childish bout of 'kolkolkol' laughter from Ivan.

I staggered out of the café and onto the cobble-stoned pathway of the campus's restaurant strip. Antonio was speaking a mile a minute in Spanish. He danced on the balls of his feet, prancing around and swinging my hand in wide, joyful arcs. My initial surprise died down. My next reaction was based off of pure instinct. An angry Lovino always resulted in violence. Bitch swerve!

I used my free hand to slap him across the cheek. He quickly switched back into English after that. I shook my head. What a dumbass. "Oh Lovi! I'm so so so happy! We're going to have such a great time tonight! I can't wait to show you my favourite place on campus... Blah blah blah. I'm a cocky Spanish bastard who enjoys to conquer vulnerable Italian boys. Blah blah. I probably think that I'm so fucking charming. Blah. I'm a suave little fuck…"

Antonio cupped a hand to his assaulted cheek and chuckled. I attempted to wrench my hand free from his grip. I spluttered and gasped when Antonio brought that very hand up to his lips and kissed it. "The f-fuck…?" I squeaked, and very weakly at that.

Antonio let go of my hand. It dropped like a sack of bricks and fell to my side, numb like my cold, dead heart, which for some reason was beating even faster with each minute that I spent with this fucker. I nearly died from mortification when Antonio burst out laughing. My face couldn't possibly have been any redder. Thankfully no one was around to witness this awfully cringe worthy moment. I could barely handle the hand holding as it was. Him laughing just made this situation so much worse than what it had to be.

"Fusososo! Pft! Your face is so red!" Antonio doubled over and grabbed his knees with both hands.

I unamusedly crossed my arms and bit my lip. I considered pulling out my phone to record this. Perhaps I could film a nature documentary about a brand new species of dumbass. 'El bastardo'. Hey, that actually had quite the ring to it…

Two minutes passed.

"Are you done now?" I deadpanned.

Antonio stood up straight and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. I felt like slapping myself. No. It wasn't cute how his clothes were baggy and how his sleeves fell past his wrists. It wasn't cute how he looked like a lost puppy. It wasn't cute how huggable he looked. It wasn't cute how happy he was to be around me. Certainly not! He was a bastard, and bastards can't be cute damnit!

"S-Si…eheh…" Antonio's eyes watered again. "It's just…" he took a large heaving breath in between another round of bastardly sounding fusoso's, whatever the heck those were. Fucking weird if you ask me. "You're just so…ahaha… shy! It's so cute~!" he gushed.

I snorted, spun on my heels, and began to walk off in the opposite direction.

Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck my life. Fuck everything.

"Wait! Lovi, I'm sorry! I won't laugh at you again! No matter how cute you act… I-I promise!" Antonio wailed, chasing after me with drool trickling out of his perverted mouth.

"Don't call me Lovi!" I snapped.

"Aw! Don't be like that cariño! I was only kidding!"

Silence.

"I have a special treat for you~!"

I stopped in my tracks.

"It's muy delicioso~!"

"Tch!" I turned around. Antonio skipped over to me – yes, skipped- and brought my hand into his. His calloused, tanned hand practically swallowed mine. "What kind of treat?" I inquired with raised brows. It didn't help that my stomach decided to betray me by letting out a traitorous growl.

Antonio winked, and if he hadn't been bribing me with food, I would have punched him in the face. I settled with letting go of his hand instead.

"It's a surprise."

…

Half an hour into our date and I'm still alive. Most of our time was spent walking around campus, however. I suppose he thought that a stroll underneath the moon light was romantic. His attempts to grab my hand demonstrated that sentiment quite well. For the most part, I've been able to resist his advances. I wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of holding his hand. It's not that I'm ashamed of who I am or what my sexuality is. It's other people that I worry about. Two guys holding hands was unprecedented. It attracted unwanted attention, and just by being with this loud-mouthed idiot, he, or rather we, attracted enough stares as it was. Too many stares for my liking anyways. Being gay meant putting yourself out there, whether you liked it or not. It wasn't 'normal', and I was merely an anomaly who wanted to blend into his surroundings. Antonio finally took the hint after his fifth time of trying and ultimately failing at winning over my hand. He seemed to be a bit disappointed about this, but what can you do?

But, knowing him, his sour mood wouldn't last that long. I had a hard time keeping up with him, in terms of emotions that is. Antonio was like a fireball of passion. He was all over the place. He joked and laughed and flashed off his dare I say charming smile non-stop. He was always happy. Seriously, he practically trotted right next to me. I had the odd urge to ruffle his hair again. I admired how the moon light bounced off of his chocolate brown curls. Or the way how his green eyes glowed in the dark. They shone back at me with a mischievous and playful looking light, complimented by a mirthful grin to match.

Heck. Every time that I looked at him I felt butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I don't know why someone as lively as him would ever want anything to do with a depressing fuck like me. Although, I can't say that I minded his company all that much. Even if he was a bit of a pervert. He was still adamant on insisting that I wear a dress to work. He had even threatened to pull the 'kink clause' on me, to which I responded with an equally weighted threat of my own. If Antonio ever pulled the café's 'kink clause' on me, then I would end this supposed fling of ours, and rightfully so. That bastard had already pulled enough shit on me as it stands now.

Oh that's right. You guys probably don't know what the kink clause is. Basically, customers reserved the right to pay us employees to perform certain kinks for them. Within reason, of course. But then again, Liza would allow just about everything. We were one step away from becoming a brothel if you ask me. I cringed. The memory of Feliks wearing a saddle on his back, because he was 'like, a fabulous pony that anyone would, like, totally want to ride', was still seared into my brain like a red hot iron. No matter how hard that I tried, I would never, ever, be able to forget the trauma caused by 'Hump-Pole' Wednesday.

Personally, I've never been asked to perform a kink for a customer, nor would I ever be inclined to do so. I was known as the fiery waiter, and no one bothered to mess with me. It just so happened that Antonio was too oblivious to realize this, which would explain why he was pouting right now. My vehement refusal and protests to wearing a dress for him had dampened his normally happy mood. He didn't stop. The bastard pleaded and whined, but I didn't intend on relenting any time soon.

We were walking in silence at this point. Any attempts at conversation were futile. I was too irritated and nervous to speak coherently. I twitched while he pranced. I scowled while he pouted. He looked at the ground, and I looked up at the sky, pleading for God to spare me some mercy.

Well, to be fair, the weather was at least somewhat decent. It was cool, but not a tit-freezing kind of cold. The crisp autumn air was fresh and rejuvenating. I wasn't cold, but I wasn't sweaty and gross either. The wind was slight and comfortable, playing a large part in cooling down the inevitable flushing of my face whenever Antonio looked at me. It was embarrassing how much he looked at me. His eyes carried so much admiration and genuineness that I couldn't help but shy under his gaze. He looked at me as if I was the center of his entire world. I pushed him away over and over again, but some invisible force always gravitated him closer and closer towards me. I wanted to hold his hand, I really did. It was my lack of confidence and fear of ridicule that prevented me from doing so, unfortunately.

Many straight couples were walking about, skipping along the cobble-stoned pathways and enjoying the sight of the surrounding tulip and rose gardens. I still didn't know where the bastard was planning to take us. If he thought that being mysterious would charm me, then he had another thing coming. I've always hated guessing games. Feliciano had the attention span of a fruit fly. I was similar in the sense that I had the same amount of patience as those pesky little fuckers.

I sighed in defeat. I would just have to settle with occasionally brushing shoulders with him. Every time that we touched, however, I couldn't stop myself from shivering. It was an electrifying feeling. It was as if, for that brief moment, that I could feel and tap into his passion, his warmth, and his kindness. One simple touch, despite being simple, was overwhelmingly intimate. I wanted more and yet I didn't want anything to do with him. Being with Antonio was dangerous. I could already feel myself being drawn in by his bastardly Spanish charms.

I turned my head to the side and scoffed. Just what was that moron up to now?

"What are you grinning at, bastard?" I grumbled. Antonio playfully bumped shoulders with me, earning himself a stifled gasp on my part. A brief flash of mischief flared up in his eyes before he masked it with yet another one of his cheek-stretching smiles.

The idiot stepped in front of me, blocking my path, before he took a courteous bow and held out his palm for me to place my hand in. "Our date awaits," he purred.

I deadpanned. "Our date started the moment that you kidnapped me from the café."

"Kidnapping, eh? Well you must be suffering from a strong case of Stockholm Syndrome then because you haven't made any attempts to escape from me," Antonio chuckled.

I groaned. People were beginning to stare. If I didn't do something soon, even more attention would be drawn to us. And so, against my will and conscience of my very quickly wavering sanity, I placed my hand into his. Antonio brought my hand to his lips and kissed it once more. Heat rushed all over my body. I opened my mouth and gaped like a fish.

"What are you-?" I stuttered only to stop and stare. Realization broke over my face. Just to our right was a small gelato shop. Antonio was practically glowing with pride as he led me over to his 'favourite dessert place in the entire world.' The idiot wasn't fooling me anytime soon. He was only taking me here because I was Italian. Chigi. These stereotypes would never cease to pester and fuck me from behind.

The shop looked like it hadn't been graced with the presence of a customer for years. If the half-dead neon sign, cracked, mouldy floor, gum-peppered wooden tables, unpainted yellow walls, and lifeless employees didn't already spell bankruptcy and regret.

Antonio's lie fell short when I asked him to order me his 'usual.' The idiot gaped at the menu, which was written in Italian, for a whole two minutes before I called him out on his bullshit and ordered two scoops of triple chocolate for the both of us (you really couldn't go wrong with that option). As if that wasn't bad enough, Antonio declined my offer to pay for the surprisingly decent-looking dessert cones. Tch! Just once it would be nice if he didn't act so damned patronizing.

If I told him how rich my family was, he was sure to trip over his feet. Well, even more so than he usually did. Si, the bastard became clumsy if excited enough. Which, apparently, was all the time whenever he was with me. I'm so fucking lucky. Note the inevitably self-deprecating sarcasm.

With our treats now in hand, Antonio and I found a bench outside to sit at. It was under a large maple tree that was planted right in the middle of a squared-off court yard. Wires containing fairy lights were wrapped around the tree's branches, leaving warm, yellow and orange glows to light up the otherwise dark and murky evening night. I clenched my free fist into a tight ball. So much for not attracting any attention…

It wasn't until we had started eating that I encountered yet another problem. Eating ice cream on a first date was quiet possibly the most awkward thing that I've ever had to experience in my entire life. Even more awkward than my emo, fringe phase back when I was fourteen, where I wrote haikus about pasta and bellas who never gave me the light of day. The fact that people knew that I was gay before I myself came to realize it made a lot more sense now that I think of it.

Regardless, I had to come up with a way of eating my gelato without looking sensual or erotic. My brows furrowed in concentration. I tried my best not to look at Antonio, who was unashamedly diving right into his treat. His tongue danced and lapped across the smooth chocolate surface of the gelato scoop. I swallowed and turned my head to the side for the sake of my own sanity. That didn't stop me from glancing at him from the corner of my eyes, however.

Antonio hummed in contentment as he licked and licked and licked, causing unforgiving tingles to shoot up my spine. The sound of him eating was beginning to become too much for me to handle. I merely stared at my cone and grit my teeth. I silently spited myself for getting aroused by such an innocent action. But damnit! That bastard must have been doing this on purpose!

I mean come on! He was going to town on that cone! His tongue was just so long and the way that it curled… Oh Dio. The way that it curled did numbers on my growing attraction to him. The tension was unbearable. Surely I wouldn't be able to hold myself back for much longer. The Italian 'love hound' in me was just aching to be released. And once I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. We were quick to retreat from our enemies, but chased after potential lovers like our lives depended on it.

The gelato cone stared right into my soul.

Eat me, Lovi. Eat me and fulfill your wildest desires….

*soft fusoso laughter*

Apparently the cone spoke in Antonio's voice.

I narrowed my eyes. Lick the cone or nibble on it? I had to make a decision and fast, so that I wouldn't draw any suspicion.

Lick. Nibble. Lick. Nibble….

Antonio cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Lovi?"

I spluttered in astonishment. "LICK! I MEAN NIBBLE! NO-! I….UM! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!"

Antonio's eyes darted to my right hand. The cone was cracked from the grip in which I held onto it with. Chocolate sauce dribbled down my fingers and wrist. Antonio grabbed my forearm, lifted it, and inspected it with bemused eyes before he ducked his head and did the unthinkable. His tongue grazed over the palm of my hand, licking off a small portion of the sugary stream. Sharp, knowing green eyes were met with horrified and denying hazel ones.

The lick was quick and fast, but it did its damage and Antonio knew it. I was rendered speechless. I was a gibbering mess. Both my cone and I wilted and melted under the heat of Antonio's smoldering gaze. My mind whirred. That sadistic, manipulative little fuck-! He did that on purpose, just to tease me!

Antonio's smirk told me everything that I needed to know. My flustered reactions gave him the go ahead. It was only a matter of time before I succumbed to the temptations of his charms. He had already fallen for me, and I was this fucking close to falling for him. I stood up from the bench and shook my head in denial. Any distraction at this point would be welcomed with an open mouth-! I mean tongue-! I mean arms-!

GOD -FUCKING-! SHIT- DAMNIT!

"Hey, where are you going?! Wait up!" Antonio called, helplessly fumbling after me.

I went against my better judgement and waited for the bastard.

It wouldn't be long before I lost my shit and acted out on impulse.

Or dare I say 'urges.'

…

I was just about ready to implode from the amount of second hand embarrassment that I was currently suffering from. Antonio was purposely toying with me now. We were walking back towards our dorms at this point. He was holding out his still half-eaten cone before him, biting his lip -teasingly- and parting open his mouth in contemplation -even more teasingly-.

I, on the other hand, had eaten my cone so fast that my stomach hurt. Stuffing my face had helped to block out the pleas of my erotic desires. Turns out I was just as perverted as he was. Go fucking figure. We were a match made straight out of Liza's yaoi-crazed heaven.

The bastard's hair was messed up like no tomorrow. I don't know how many more hair ruffles, lip biting, or twinkling 'kiss me glances' I could withstand. Any light-hearted conversation that we had went straight over my head. Oh, so you're a communications major? Cool, cool. Want to make out with me? Yes, Lovino! That's a totally appropriate conversation starter! You fucking smooth Casanova, you!

God was I ever needy.

What Antonio did next was the final straw for me. The Spaniard, who was still inspecting the gelato cone as if it was the pinnacle of all joy in the world, turned his head to the side and shed me with a mischievous-looking grin.

"What do you think, Lovi?" he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between the final scoop of his gelato cone. "Do you think that I could eat this in one bite?"

I glared at the source of my flusterment and lost the remaining shreds of control and dignity that I had been struggling all night to maintain. "You're a fucking tease, you know that?" I growled.

Antonio raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Why Lovi," he mused. "What ever do you mea-?"

I didn't give Antonio a chance to finish his sentence. In a blur, I smacked the gelato cone out of his hand, letting it fall to the ground, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him off to a place in private. My angered mind settled for the side of a random restaurant.

Antonio spluttered as I let go of his hand, but not before slamming him -none too gently, but not violently either- against the brick wall. I breathed deeply through my nostrils and took full appreciation of the exhilarating feeling of this moment. Being concealed from sight made this encounter all the more mysterious. I couldn't wait. I had to act now. I would go absolutely mad if I didn't.

Antonio's eyes widened before they narrowed into an expectantly half-lidded formation. His breathing sharpened as well. His cheeks flushed a faint pink under the white neon light of the blinking restaurant sign. I looked up at him. He was tall, and I had to compensate for our height difference by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down so that our lips and faces were just inches apart.

"L-Lov…ino…" he shuddered with deep yearning. The amount of desire in his voice was intoxicating, transfixing, tempting, dangerous, forbidden, and yet so frustratingly appealing.

Antonio raised a hand to cup my cheek. I tightened my grip on his shirt. I clutched onto the fabric so hard that my nails dug into the soft flesh of my palm and the whites of my knuckles showed. His hand brushed away at the hair that swept over my own eyes.

"Let me see those beautiful hazel eyes of yours," he whispered, lightly breathing his hot breath into my face. "You've been hiding from me all night long, mi amor. I want to see them burn with anger. Show me that fiery boy that caught my attention with just one scowl…"

"Enough with the fucking small talk," I hissed. "Just kiss me already!"

Antonio hesitated.

I rolled my eyes and rushed to fill the gap between us. I pulled him closer and closer until our lips finally crashed together. My chest swelled with a thrilling type of anxiety. Antonio's mouth parted open and I didn't hesitate to intertwine my tongue with his. He was hesitant where I was confident, much to my surprise and partial dismay.

The sweet taste of chocolate and the feeling of his smooth lips on my lips and his rough tongue on my tongue was almost too much to bear. In fact, I was beginning to get frustrated. I wasn't usually the 'dominant' one when it came to kissing. Wasn't the Bad Touch Trio infamous for their fair share of love experiences? What the fuck was this? Why was he holding back, damnit?!

Antonio broke the kiss to answer my question, and ultimately, growing agitation.

"Wait," he panted. "Does this mean that we're...dating?"

A sly smirk crept onto my face. "Take a wild fucking guess, bastard." I knotted a fist through Antonio's thick mane of glossy curls. I was aiming to strike a perfect balance between pleasure and pain, but only by a slight amount. I teasingly, albeit gently, tugged at the roots of his hair, earning myself a startled but delighted gasp from him in response.

"Eheh…?"

"Oh for fuck's sakes! Yes!"

Antonio moaned with pleasure. "Oh…" he wheezed.

"Finally…" he trailed off, leaving my muddled mind scraping for answers.

"Finally what?" I inquired, ducking my head so that I could graze my teeth over the sensitive skin of his collar bone.

Antonio's eyes darkened a shade. "I don't have to hold back anymore."

I paled.

My dominating reign had finally come to an end. I can't say that I was all that displeased, however. In fact, I was elated. That bastard knew how to get under my skin, and not in the perverted way that you most certainly just imagined it in.

To be continued... ;)

Guess who's back? It's your main bitch, Ella, coming at you with a total of 3 hours of sleep, two red bulls, and a whopping amount of emotional baggage! (haha, kill me).

Sneak Preview of Next Chapter: A fangirl's spy mission/yet another Spamano date:

"Roderich raised a brow in worry when my body swayed to the side. It wasn't uncommon for me to faint due to over excitement. Especially when that over excitement had to do with the tantalizing fruit of gay love."

Until next time! Have a great day/ night!

-Ella