Title: Through My Fault
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain/Romano
Warnings: Er. Sex. And, uh, it could offend you if you're really really religious. /dies
Summary: Because it's always been known that the forbidden things taste best, and tasting the best always got you addicted. Lovino understood that; maybe a bit too much.
"Confiteor Deo omnipotenti..."
I mutter the prayer under my breath, eyes clenched shut as I try to ignore the pain flaring from my back. You don't hear me, don't hear me begging the Lord for forgiveness for our sins. It was sin enough to just whisper the prayer, I understand that, but I can't help it. I can't help that you tempt me so, I can't help feeling this lust for you that I know will make me burn in hell. I can't find it in myself to stop you or to stop myself from this as I push against you, loving the way that you feel inside of me as you grunt in pleasure.
It was disgusting, repulsive, sinful- but I want it. I want this, I want you to be mine.
"Beatæ Mariæ semper Virgini," I whisper into the bed sheets, clutching onto the pillow lying beneath my chin as you thrust forward again. It was so sinful; forbidden, even. But the desire is too much, I can't help it, can't help but want you.
How could you not care for this, Antonio? How? Do you not realize that we are sinning?
Suddenly, your hands are on me, all over my body and I moan in wanton, shame welling in my chest as I feel the tears brimming in my eyes. "Beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Ioanni Baptistæ," I whimper, my words muffled as I push my face into the soft silk underneath me. "Sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis."
You take my words as pleads for more and you move faster, murmuring loving words into my neck as you kiss as much of my exposed skin you can reach. My stomach flips when I hear your words –"I love you, Lovino"; "you're so beautiful"-, and it's not from pleasure. Because it reminds me that I am a sinner; that I don't deserve any form of forgiveness at all.
"Et vobis, fratres: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere..."
Because I know that it's not love that I feel for you, Antonio. It has never been love.
Yet I keep praying; keep thinking that maybe there was someone out there who could stop me from doing this- stop me from hurting you. Your naivety isn't as advantageous as I'd like to think, because it only serves to keep me from letting go of this obsession I have towards you. Why can't you just make it easier for me, Antonio?
Why can't you just let me go?
"Mea culpa, mea culpa," I stifle a moan as you grasp my hips with force, enough force that I knew would leave finger-shaped bruises on my hips. I let out a choked breath as you push deeper into me, limbs trembling as I feel the tip of your member brush against that one spot that I knew would make me release. But no, I can't- couldn't. Not yet.
"Mea maxima culpa..."
You stop all movements and I whine, craning my neck back to look at you in confusion. Your only reply is a look of dark lust before you flip me over, our chests pressing together as you start pushing your hips forward again. I barely suppress a gasp when you do so, the change of position making it easier for you to enter me and oh, it feels so good.
I choke out, "Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem." You give me a confused look when you hear my mumbling and I shudder, gripping at your shoulders as I urge you to move faster. It's almost done, almost finished, and I could finally rest. "Beatum Michaelem Archangelum..."
"Ngh-!" I cry out, eyes clenched shut as I thrash against you in my haze of pleasure, writhing with sweat trickling down my neck as I consciously tighten myself around you. You grunt in surprise at that, eyes flashing as you finally release your semen inside me and I continue murmuring, "Beatum Ioannem Baptistam..."
"Lovi?" You rasp out in exhaustion, eyes alight with confusion as you hear my incoherent murmuring. You pull away from me and I wince, feeling you sliding out of me and it's absolutely disgusting. "What are you saying? Do you- do you need anything? Water?"
And I chose to ignore you, cradling my face in my palms as I start crying a bit, knowing that I've sinned yet again. But when have I ever stopped sinning? It was practically second nature to me now, after everything we'd already done...why do I feel regret now?
"Sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos..." I chant, bringing my knees up to my chest as I let the guilt eat up at my insides. Of course I knew why I felt regret. It was just...just so revolting whenever I even managed to think of it. I was disgusted with myself because I knew, I knew...
I was only using you. I've always been using you.
But you never complained, have you? No, such a thing is unlike you. You love me, don't you? Yes, yes you do. But you love all your other adopted children too, right? Of course you do. But I'm different. You see me in a sexual way, you see me in your fantasies, you see me completely bare in your dreams while you make love to me. It would be odd if you saw all your children like that, wouldn't it?
You're looking almost scared now- anxious, because you've already managed to understand certain words that I mumbled. "Lovi, please, talk to me...Lovino, I love you, don't push me away like this..."
I sob harder at that, my body trembling at the pure guilt racking my system as I say louder, too angry and guilt-ridden and tired to keep it in any longer, "Et vos, fratres, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum."
You look stricken when you hear those words, eyes widened in distraught realization as you finally understand.
I'm sorry, Antonio. I can't do this to you anymore. I'm so sorry.
A/N: ; ~ ; I was watching Hellfire just for nostalgia's sake, and this happened. I'm sorry, guys. *bleaches brain* I fail at writing these kinds of fanfics, pfft. ;;;;
Also, for those of you who wanted a translation for all the Latin that Lovi was spouting:
I confess to Almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to you, brethren: that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word and deed: through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault. Therefore I beseech blessed Mary ever Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and you, brethren, to pray for me to the Lord our God.
For more information about the prayer, check this link out: http: / /en. wikipedia .org/wiki/Confiteor [just remove the spaces.]