Bèsame Mucho

Chapter 4

www.fanfiction.net

Bésame Mucho Chapter 4, a hetalia | axis powers fanfic

Just to quickly clarify the timeline. This chapter takes place in Autumn, 1943, just a few months before the events of 'Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart' begin. From this point the big time skips between chapters will stop.

The Guitar: (YouTube)/watch?v=ORGQ9df3ZbY

The Dance: (YouTube)/watch?v=c9V64EPA4NU

Autumn, 1943
Italy

.

Antonio was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. There was no possible way that something this wonderful, something this beautiful, something he had yearned for and craved and desired for so long could possibly be happening like this, could possibly be here in his arms.

It felt again like that long ago afternoon in his rented rooms opposite the revolutionary cantina. The world was small, silent, still; and only one person existed in it. Lovino - lovely, complicated, stunning, frustrating, perfect Lovino. Lovino, holding to Antonio's arms with light, steady hands, pressing against him with uncertain force, his eyes too dark and his breath too fast. Antonio wanted him. Antonio burned for him. For the guilty touch of his skin, for the scent of his hair, for the press of his hips and the darkness in his eyes. But no, this was not right, and Lovino did not understand; but he was so beautiful, so warm and soft and breathless, so goddamned bright and dark and alluring and Antonio did not know if he was strong enough to stop this...

But this wasn't four years ago. Because when Lovino looked up at Antonio through dark, heavy lashes, instead of the lovely fifteen year old boy of that blazing afternoon, his flushed face was that of the handsome, still complicated, still frustrating, still perfect young man whom Antonio still burned for. So this time, when Lovino moaned, Antonio did not push him away. Because if this was a dream, then it was all right to give in and let go and damn the consequences. And if it was not... oh, if it was not...

And so, Antonio gave in. He pulled Lovino against him, grasped his narrow hips and crushed them to his own. Lovino threw his head back and his moan became a word. "Antonio..." Antonio couldn't be dreaming, because this was too real, this was too perfect. He felt every touch of Lovino like an electric current, lost himself in this pulsing, building, burning need... Lovino's hair, Lovino's lips, his skin, his breath, his hands, his neck, Lovino's dark, dark eyes...

But Antonio woke the way he always did. With a racing heart and panting breath, with throbbing release and sweat-drenched sheets. With a groan of disappointment that, yet again, it had only been a dream. He lay sprawled in the tiny bed, limbs limp and languid; the last tingling pulses of pleasure fading slowly from his feverish skin. He blinked his eyes into focus and his heaving chest started to slow as early sunlight broke through the curtains and brightened the dull, dirty rented room.

Antonio ran a hand through his unwashed, sweat-soaked hair and, despite himself, felt rising laughter bubble up in his chest as he glanced down at the wet sheets tangled around his thighs. Anyone would think he was still a teenager. He giggled softly and jumped to his feet, raced to throw open the curtains and smile cheerfully out at the golden Italian morning. Today was a beautiful day. Because today, Antonio was heading south. And south meant one thing.

Lovino.

.

Lovino sat against the garden wall, strumming his guitar absently, humming to himself as a light, golden rain of dark autumn leaves drifted into the garden. Feliciano had left earlier for the market and Lovino was not sure where Grandpa Roma had gone. Grandpa was always unusually sombre at this time of year, sometimes disappearing for hours at a time - it wasn't until a few years ago that Lovino had learnt this was the season his mother and grandmother had died. So here Lovino sat, alone in the garden - something he was used to by now - alone. Alone with his thoughts and his fears and his memories. All of them turning eventually, inevitably, towards the same old obsession.