Let me start by saying that this is NOT A ONE SHOT. It will only be two or three chapters and it had more of a 'literature' feel to it than a 'fanfiction' feel in my opinion. This means it won't be terribly corny, nor will it be filled with gooey and idealized descriptions between Romano or Spain about each other. (Or at least I'lll try, because that habit is hard to shake! :P ) And also it can be mildly... disturbing at time the way their sexualities are described. (Especially if you catch onto WHY Antonio is doing his "business" WHERE he is doing it... and also in later chapters)

(Translation of Title: Dancing With The Bulls)

This is a story about a famous local Spanish matador Antonio, and his Italian page boy Romano, who is about to learn bulls aren't the only things that Antonio loves to dance with. Nor are they the only things he loves to control and destroy. (Shitty!summary is shitty!)


Spain in this story is more like Conquistador!Spain... Just as a warning for his almost aggressive nature later on.

WARNINGS: Not many... Some sexual situations and a bit of swearing.


Antonio adjusted his traje de luces, dusting off the golden embroidered shoulders as he took a deep breath, hearing the roars of the crowd that signified that they were enjoying the show and thus far had loved the first two acts.

He smoothed out his red cape over the dowel as he stared out lifelessly at the ring, watching as the three banderilleros herded the bleeding bull out the arena, it's black, strong legs matted with it's own hot blood. Its hooves had gone pink as the dust and sand under its stamping feet became like wet sand along the San Sebastian, warm, wet and heavy.

The bull's large neck and shoulder muscles had been practically severed by the barbed sticks, or banderillas, that hung off of it's sides, waving the proud Spanish colours like any creature bred in the passionate country would be proud to do.

Antonio felt pride weld up deep in his stomach from watching the animal stomp around, thrash about and try to evade the prodding to make him enter the large doors. The banderillas flung around him with every stomp and kick, waving around a deep red and canary yellow. They were the colours of sunsets that lit up the Spanish skies every evening, and the colours that every man, creature and beast was willing to die for.

Antonio had no regrets, no guilty feeling at slaying such a beast. To die under the Spanish colours was to die a proud creature in God's eyes.

His free, thick and calloused hand wove through curly brown locks as he watched the bull get locked away, hearing its wild snorts and kicking from behind the door. He was a caged beast, a wild animal. These bulls were bred with the purpose to be in the arena once and once only. Any more times and they would learn, would strategize and would become cunning. To let an animal of such power becoming cunning, as man was to let one's self be diminished to that of a beast.

They were bred with the purpose of being killed and as such they were as the closest thing to a wild animal as Antonio would ever experience in his life.

The crowd roared as his own doors swung open meaning it was his time to enter and he was greeted with the sight of an empty ring. The round circle of sand had been matted in the creature's blood like a slaughtered sacrificial lamb that had been dragged around to bless the grounds.

He felt his mozo de espada hand over his specially sharpened sword, his ayuda standing close by, watching as there was a transfer of cold, sleek metal between palms. It was heavy and fit right in Antonio's hand as if it was an extension of his very arm. It made him powerful, made him feel close to God. To take an animal's life, as he was to do was an act only sanctioned by God.

He had previously prayed before the corrida to God at the chapel in the bullring, saying a dozen prayers to give him strength to take the beast's life and to pray for his safe return home.

Holding this sword made him feel above man.

The announcer said his name, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and then listed his previous achievements as a matador, which were quite lengthy and impressive for the young age of twenty-four. His hand tightened around the sword and the dowel as he prepared to enter.

Antonio smirked back to his two lancers who leaned against the edge of the bullring, along with the rest of Antonio's team who all had matching smirks. " Go get them Toni!" One of the lancers said in heavy Spanish as he patted his shoulder roughly. "God will be with you."

Nodding he stepped forward and with only one step the crowd erupted into shouts of excitement. His white boots stalked through the dust, his tight black, gold encrusted pants stretching across trained muscles. His green eyes were concentrating ahead of him, but never seemed to take anything in as he did his round around the ring, doing the occasional flourish with his cape making the women in the crowd scream.

He turned, facing right at the big wooden doors, staring at the crack between them. He placed his feet in a strong stance and stared the beast straight on, waiting for the doors to open and release it.

Antonio felt his breath catch as the doors swung open, his heart racing wildly as the bull kicked and roared, as if steam was furling from it's nostrils. The bull's hooves made deep beating noises on the ground, like that of a wild, racing heartbeat. Antonio's lips curled into a smile and those green eyes gained life at the sight of the charging beast.

It was black, and its eyes were soulless as the devil himself. The bull charged forward straight for Antonio and his red cape, that teased it and waved back and forth as if to bait it, to make it fight of it's life as it bled out in the ring.

A loud cry of "¡ole!" filled the arena as Antonio twisted his arm, flourishing the cape to allow the bull to run right by it, enraging the beast.

Antonio let out a chuckle. It felt wonderful, it felt beyond words as the creature rushed past him, inches from snagging him with one of his horns. It was like a shot of heroína, setting Antonio's soul on fire like no other thing could.

As he flourished again and avoided the bull a wild smile broke across his face.

It was sex to him. It had the same rush one would experience from bedding another. The same thrill of running your hands over a man or woman's skin was akin to the bull being so closed to you that you could feel it's hot breath on your hands. The ecstasy of being so close to death, like a close friend. Every look into the bull's eyes was a look straight into the pits of hell. It was dark, untamed and wild, just the way Antonio liked it.

It was like controlling a lover's body, deciding when to give pleasure to another. Antonio, like a lover, had control over the bull; dominance of it's being and it's life. More vital than pleasure or love put together.

Romano's hands gripped tightly around the edge of the bullring as he stared on with glossy eyes full of amazement. He watched his matador dance around the bull as if it was second nature, as if he was bred to do dance with swift and nimble feet.

He was fucking fantastic at what he did.

Romano was simply a peon, only a lowly page. He was nineteen, and had only been with Antonio's team for a year and hadn't spoken often to him. But from what he could gather he tended to be this silent guy, almost creepy silent guy. He was super dedicated to his work, training every single moment to sculpt his body in a way that could not be mistaken by any eyes to be anything but beautiful.

Romano groaned as he watched his taut legs move with the grace of a dancer around the animal, he watched his tight behind as he side-stepped and flourished along with the shouts of the audience.

He shook his head, scowling as he watched his technique instead, propping head up as he watched Antonio complete his tandas, doing a few basic side passes and then an impressive flourish.

The crowd was going nuts and the weirdo seemed to be responding, his flourishes becoming bigger, better as he thrusted the red right into the air, only to snap it right back down to earth before it had a moment to fly off. The bull was stalking him, charging him as the yellow and red sticks on his flanks bobbed up and down, the yellow now turning orange from it's blood.

Romano had always loved bullfighting since he was a boy and going to the shows with his grandfather had inspired him to leave with Antonio's brood when they had rolled into town the year before. But he had to admit it was more the bullfighters that he loved then it was the bulls.

He thought the bulls were actually rather pathetic, allowing themselves to be slain, like the dumb shits they were. It was the bullfighter's control that really ignited his passion. Romano wanted to be up there, waving that flag around like Antonio was, getting a taste of the feeling Antonio would describe as euphoric.

And plus, Antonio got any and all girls he wanted, and Romano couldn't lie. That was certainly a perk.

He was awoken from his daydreaming as the crowd chanted Antonio's name and his vision zoned in on the young brunette matador who entered the final stage, or faena. He and the bull now were so close that Romano thought they were swirling around into one being. The bull being dark, blood covered, and Antonio being light, his green eyes so full of life, as if he had gone and sucked it all from the tired and dying bull.

He was maneuvering the bull into a position to commit the estocada, and to finally thrust his sword right between its shoulder blades, slicing through the beast's little black heart. If he wasn't successful the first time he'd try with another sword and sever the bull's spinal chord. If the bull willed to live longer then Romano would step in, withdrawing the dagger attached to his hip and he would dig into the already open wound to try and completely sever it.

A lot rode on him making a clean kill though, and it seemed as the moment was approaching as Antonio got the bull right in place, whipped the red cape away from the tired bull. He drew his hand back, the blade shining in the hot Spanish sun before coming down in one skillful blow right on target.

Green eyes widened like a hungry animal as he felt the resistance of the bull's tough hide break and let way for his blade to slice through muscles and tendons. He was part of the bull finally. His arm administering its destiny, like the hand of God.

The moment of connection between arms and blade, blade and bull was intimate, sexual even in the most simple of contexts. The simplicity of two beings sharing the share body, experiencing the same experience, and the control and submission that came with it was so close to sex that Antonio found it hard to separate victorious excitement from arousal.

Antonio was panting, smiling like no other as he withdrew his sword, the crowd's cheers becoming so loud that it was impossible to hear the cries of the bull, the stagger of its blood soaked hooves as it wobbled away, grasping onto it's last few moments.

He wanted to hear it, wanted the crowd to disappear and be able to hear his power and his dominance taking its toll on the creature. So instead he watched with emerald eyes as the animal faltered and finally toppled over, thus ending the tercio de muerte.

Antonio watched as mules carted off the bull, it's tail and ears quickly cut off for him to keep later. The blood kept pumping through his body, pounding in his ears as he felt his insides tumble and turn with the same excitement he felt when he had first lost his virginity.

He tracked it's big black body as it moved all along the sand until finally it was pulled out from the ring and left this world forever and entered God's.

Antonio turned to the crowd, smiled a face splitting smile as he held his sword up, showcasing the bull's blood like a trophy. His eyes trained on the beast's life source as it slowly dripped down his sharp blade.

" Here you go you stupid beast." Romano growled as he shoved hay into the horse's trough roughly, staring into its beady eyes that blinked occasionally, batting away the off fly that came too close.

Romano ignored the way the lancer's horse pushed his head through her stall's open half door, as if begging to be petted. Her long, bony nose bobbed by Romano's head, encouraging him to reach out and touch it. " Ugghh… Okay, okay…" Romano grumbled before reaching out and running his fingers down her silky nose as she snorted a little, happy at his attention, getting her hot and wet breath all over his hands.

Romano withdrew his hand and scowled in disgust as he rubbed it off on the side of his brown breeches. " Disgusting." He shuddered, at the sticky feeling that he knew was probably horse nose goo.

He turned and leaned over to pick up the bale of hay by the thick string around it, and he couldn't help but sigh out in content as he made his way through the stalls and plucked out over half the bale of hay to shove it in the dirty feeding boxes.

There was a sort of calm that overcame him when he was alone to his chores in the stables. Sure he hated doing work, was dragged kicking and screaming and usually he fumbled and dropped things, which made the others angry.

But in the stables he worked at his own pace, by his own rules and if he messed it up or fell down it was only a secret between him and the horses, who by all accounts were pretty good at keeping secrets.

It was a sweet summer's morning, just before the sun rose fully in the sky and scorched Spain with all her might. At this time there was still a cool breeze reminiscent of the springs that had long left the land. The grass was green as ever and soft under Romano's feet as he had made his way to the stables earlier that morning. The breeze ruffled his auburn locks, tousling them all around and cooling his neck and back under his white cotton shirt. The air smelt almost sweet and the normal humidity that coated working, golden bodies with sweat had not yet come.

The sun that had touched his olive skin that morning now only filtered through the cracks in the barn, only wisps of that breeze making it through into the musty smelling barn.

Dust coiled around his feet as he went to the water facet and filled up a tin bucket in his hand. The sound of the cool water ringing against it was like music and Romano sighed as he ran his hands under it as it poured into the bucket. It was cool and he couldn't stop as he brought one handful of water to his mouth, quenching a bit of thirst that had crept up almost unnoticed. Had he realized he was sharing water with the livestock he wouldn't have done it, but he was too far gone in his day dreams to give a crap about such details.

He thought back to Antonio, his cape and his dance with the bull.

Romano imagined it was him up there with the crowd cheering his name over and over like it was a mantra. If he was in a dull green traje de luces, embroidered with real gold all down his thighs and chest. He wanted those stupid shoulder pads with the gold tassels and the dorky black hat that reminded him of Mickey Mouse. Man, did Romano want it all.

He imagined himself with a big, thick moustache that made him look both silly and ridiculously important. He'd stroke it while girls flocked around him, stroking his suit, slipping their hands inside the jacket and under his shirt, all along his hopefully hairy and super manly chest. (Because Romano had always been lacking in that department since puberty and was always secretly self-conscious of it.)

In this dream Antonio would be running around fetching HIS water, shining HIS shoes and washing HIS underwear. If you hadn't caught on that was also Romano's job, and the part he really hated.

Romano opened the big metal latch on a set of doors in front of him that led to where they kept the bulls that were going to be fought within the next few days. Romano never really like THIS part of the job, having to feed and sustain animals that would just get killed within the next few days. It was rather pointless and a waste of Romano's precious time.

He entered quietly, not wanting to make a lot of noise and disturb the creatures. God forbid he made noise and the bulls started thrashing around in their metal cages. The auburn haired boy couldn't stand to hear their hooves pounding the metal over and over again, searching for a weak spot in the bars.

So Romano made haste, pulling along his filled bucket, going to start at the end near the faucet and work his way down. He swung the bucket a little, the water sloshing around as he passed the eerily calm bulls that all just seem to stare at him with those same soul sucking eyes that made Romano shiver. Some of them pawed at the ground with their hooves, others cocked their head, showing off their horns but most stayed still, just staring.

It was about half way through the barn that Romano started to hear weird noises. He moved slowly, his feet making no sound in the dirt as he crept forward, the bucket close to his side.

The light from the slits in the barn lit up the air in front of him, making the dust and dirt dance around his face as it sent slits of sun all down his chubby cheeks, golden eyes and body.

He licked his dry lips as the noises became stranger. Little choked noises, hay rustling around and something wet. He wondering if maybe one of the bulls had maybe given birth, but knew that was ridiculous as the bulls were all male. Maybe they were just drinking? But he knew that wasn't the noise they made.

Romano kept walking to the end of the stalls and then rounded the corner holding his breath, expecting a bull to have escaped or some other animal to be ready to attack him.

As his breath caught in his lungs and his heart shot up into his throat, he knew it was a beast and an animal waiting for him, but not the type he was expecting.

His face went red as he stared at the scene in front of him. The young matador was lost in the hay, lounging across it with ease, his legs lazily lay out in front of him and his back cradled by the golden straw. Pieces of it were in his brown locks where clung to the nape of his neck and a bit stuck to his dewed forehead.

" Mnn…."

There he was, his legs open as his hands were wrapped around the thick protrusion that had come from his tight black breeches. Little pleasured noises escaped his lips as his hands moved up and down the considerable length, slick and wet noises filling Romano's virginal ears. The man's legs would twitch and his closed eyes would clench up, his noses scrunching up.

The same ignited dust and dirt floated around the man's head, and big cracks in the corner of the barn let in light that lit up his strong, chiseled features with gold. His brown curls looked like melting chocolate.

Romano could only muster up two words to describe the scene before him. Beautiful and disgusting.

" W-Wha-?" Romano squeaked out as his hand went slack, his hand lost grip and the bucket dropped from his hand to smack against the dirt floor, emptying it's contents all over the floor, almost reaching Antonio's feet. "A-Antonio!"

The brunette perked up, his closed eyes fluttering open to stare up at his page whose eyes had gone as wide as dinner plates. Antonio's hand didn't stop moving and the slick noises filled the thick silence between them.

Romano shook as his face went even redder, making Antonio think he looked an awful lot like a sputtering tomato. " Y-You're going to go to hell for this!" He gasped before rummaging in his pocket and pulled out a black rosary that, like a good Catholic, he kept on his person. He wound it around his olive hand, and clutched the cross at the end. " G-Go to confessionals! Now!"

Antonio merely sighed before groaning a little, his hand never faltering from its actions. He stared up with smoldering green eyes that seemed to call to Romano, reach deep within his soul and touch and kiss parts of him that he never dared explore. His grip tightened on the rosary and he began a Hail Mary like one would do after confessional.

"Ave, o Maria, piena di grazia, il Signore è con te. Tu sei benedetta fra le donne e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno, Gesù. Santa Maria, Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori, adesso e nell'ora della nostra morte. Amen."

" I-Italian…?" Antonio croaked as his hand sped up, watching the quivering auburn haired made squirm as he kept up his actions. " R-Romano, isn't it?" He chuckled lightly, sounding pleasured and relaxed as he lounged in the hay. The bulls snorted and their hooves clacked against their metal cages behind them.

Romano didn't feel the man, who was no better than the beasts he slain, deserved a response. Instead he kept clutching the rosary tightly as he watched his tendons becoming apparent as his tanned hand tightened and twisted around the long and wet organ. Antonio groaned out, his head dropping into the hay behind him so his throat was expose, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly between breathy noises.

Romano couldn't leave and Antonio had no intention of stopping so instead Romano kept the rosary clutched, closing his eyes so he couldn't see Antonio bucking and rolling his sculpted hips up into his hands, nor could he see the way his face screwed up as his breathing hitched and he spilled warm and translucent liquid all over his hands.

No, he didn't see that at all because he had his eyes closed, ignoring the sin like a proper Catholic. His golden eyes were not opened a crack to be able to view the sin… A-And if they were it was simple to be able to testify it to the Lord so the pervert could be sent to purgatory when he hit his hopefully early demise.

He opened his eyes fully when he heard the sound of a heavy buckle being done up, and he opened his eyes to see Antonio covered in hay standing there in his wrinkled white shirt that had a loose black ribbon around his neck and tight black pants. He just casually walked over to the shaking boy and eyed him with those alive green eyes that reminded him of when he had been dancing with the bull.

Romano went to open his mouth but he clamped it shut as he went red and his body went warm. Antonio had lifted his hand to his mouth, running his tongue lazily along the web between his forefinger and thumb, cleaning up.

The auburn boy stood dumbfounded as the young matador chuckled lightly and then winked one of his emerald eyes. He leaned in as close as Romano would allow and whispered. His voice was deep, low, like a purr. " tiene una erección."

Romano went beet red, his heart shooting up into his throat as the Spaniard slunk away, rocking his hips in satisfaction as he walked past the caged bulls who kicked around in their cages. He walked past the slits of light that fell on him like peeks of sunshine before he disappeared out the side of the barn and out into the hot midday Spanish sun.

Romano quivered as he glanced down between his legs and at the crotch of his brown breeches and blushed hotly when he realized he did in fact have an erection that no amount of Hail Marys would get rid of.

traje de luces = suit of lights (the traditional matador outfit)
banderilleros = flagmen
banderillas = "little flags" (barbed sticks stabbed into bull's flanks during the second stage, tercio de banderillas, to make them lose blood and slow down)
mozo de espada = sword servant
ayuda = aide to the sword servant
peon = pages
estocada = the act of thrusting the sword
tercio de muerte = "death third" (the final stage of bull fighting)
tiene una erección = "You have an erection" (Thank you BatDemonNinja for the correction!)

Romano is doing one of the two common prayers you must do a certain number of times when you commit a sin. For example the Priest could say you should do three Holy Marys and five Our Fathers. The translation is as follows: Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

So now I have a question to ask...

Dance scene or no dance scene?

I want to have them dancing but I fear it may be too.. fanfiction-y... Your thoughts?

Review please! I REALLY want your criticism and your thoughts on this story!