A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction * Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2012
DenmarkxNorway & HongIce *

I'd always been a bit proud. Self sufficient. Aloof.

I had a younger brother, and I was happy to care for him like a father, and I had a peaceful job as a columnist at a newspaper, making a great wage enough to rent a good flat in the city. I had a partner…

But I usually omitted that fact, when introducing myself to strangers.

It wasn't normal, the sort of relationship we had, but it was functional I suppose. I wasn't really into it. He was not my type at all, and the only reason I hadn't left him was because he didn't negatively affect my life and the sex was great and on-call twenty four seven. Not that I wanted it. But if I did it was there. My brother and I too, had a sort of far away but highly efficient relationship. He was the shy side of sixteen now, and charming, but suspiciously quiet and maybe its just me getting older, more paranoid, but I cant help but feel a faint ghost of unease, when he flitted around secretively and wouldn't let me in on his goings on.

And it was this situation that found me sitting, agitated, in a café with my 'significant other' discussing any amount of evil deeds he may be plotting. If anything.

"I dunno why you are so bothered Niky." Mathias tipped his head to the side and sighed. "As long as he's not doing awful in school…"

"I'm bothered because I don't like him slinking about like a cat burglar."

"How do you know he's slinking?"

"He just… has this look. This slinking look."

Matthias regarded at me, with his eyes, in that irritating way he does sometimes. Looks like that made me want to slap his handsome features all around his stupid face.

"Niky, sometimes, you look like you are planning some kind of suicide bombing. Doesn't mean you are, right?"

"I do not."

"You do!" he sucked in his cheeks and sat straight in his chair. "Oh, I'm Nikolas. Butter wouldn't melt in my mouth, between my legs is like a refrigerator, and if you look at me, I'm going to shank you in the spine."

"… Stop impersonating me or between my legs will be a desert for you for the next indefinite period of time."

"Even your comebacks are lame." Unimpressed, he slumped back in his chair and fingered the neck of his Tuborg, obviously unaware of how slim a thread of whim this relationship was dangling on. I narrowed my eyes, but said nothing.

I entertained the thought of giving him a severe shanking.

I spent most of my evening at work reflecting on what he had said.

My job was not exactly menial, but it was kind of stupid. Hard to believe that I had a five year journalism degree under my belt. Most people in the city, nay, the region, who read and enjoyed my writing didn't even know my real name. As far as they were concerned, I was Nana. Ask Nana the anonymous advice columnist. Don't ask me why the general public preferred pouring their guts out to a faceless archetype then having it published to visiting an actual therapist, I haven't a clue, but judging by the sheer mountain of letters I received a week the preference was vast. It struck me as a bit daft and attention seeking personally, but alas, when I was in nanas shoes, I couldn't say things like that out loud. I had to at least pretend to loan a sympathetic ear.

I scanned a particularly simpering letter, about a woman subconsciously hellbent on sabotaging her own relationships because of her shitty self esteem, and sighed, deciding it would do and setting my hand on my keyboard. I really needed a secretary. I had one once, but she was fired by my boss because apparently she was a 'pointless expense'.

Asshole. I'm pretty sure that he thought my column was a pointless expense.

So I typed 'Nana's' advice with the same distanced reasonability as always, my mind a million miles away and fixated on my brother and his doings, and Mathias and his beings.

Both of them thought that there was something relatively hilarious about my job, although the humour was lost on me.

I was distracted by my musings by my phone ringing.

It was that new office boy on the far end of the line.

"Hello Nor? The place is closing."

"Oh. Right oh." I closed my laptop and sighed. I hadn't finished next weeks column yet. "Still no key for me then?"

"He said that if you asked again you would be sent away."

I grumbled, sucking my teeth and hating my boss even more. Of course he said that.

"Great. Okay. Well I guess I will be out in a second."

This crappy paper was lucky I stayed.

Maybe the reason I was so nosy, about whatever it was my brother was up to, was because the two of us had not always been as close, as I would have liked. I had to work, and he had school, and our parents weren't around to pick up the slack. Things were grim, and I sometimes thought that maybe if we had been closer, or if I had been less superior, he may just have told me, where it was he was going to after school these days, or why he was suddenly asking for money, to go to buy things I never saw.

I hoped it wasn't drugs. But then thought that such things were stupid. Of it were drugs, Mathias would have noticed straight away, and said something. Mathias always says something. Even if it was of no use whatsoever.

Ugh Mathias. Why did I even keep him around?

But Mathias was hugely far from my mind when I got home, and there was a stranger in my house.

"Oh." We collided on my way in the door, and Emil, behind him, squeaked. He looked as guilty as all sin, but the stranger honestly didn't seem bothered, stepping back and pushing tragically long bangs out of his disturbingly dolly eyes.

"My bad." He told me in a soft drawl, and I looked immediately to the white haired little demon who was getting so grounded it wasn't even funny.

He seemed paler than usual, and surprised. Fair enough. I was half an hour early home. And I would have to start coming home earlier still, apparently.

"… Who's this?"

"This is… Leon. My friend."

"Leon?" I glanced him over, and I must say he didn't look like a Leon so much as a Yong Ju Lee Soo Min or something. Yong Ju Lee Soo Min being the food critic at the paper I work for.

"Yeah, hello." He held out his hand, expression unchanging, "Nice to meet you. You must be knickerless."


Whoever he was, I liked him even less now.

"Right. That's it. Em's brother."


"Leon has to go now." Emil hurried forward, his pale cheeks blooming red with embarrassment. "I will see you tomorrow, okay."

"Yeah kay." Leon-slash-Yong-Ju-Lee-Soo-Min dug around in the pockets of his oversized yellow jersey for ipod ear buds and popped one in his ear. "See you tomorrow."

"Shhh!" a significant look, Emil ushered him forward and edged around me, standing stunned in the doorway. "I will talk to you later."

And when the door was closed behind the intruder, I grabbed his slim hand and tugged him around, to face me and answer for whatever the hell it was that was supposed to be.

"You have a friend?" I demanded of him, a bit rudely. "How long has this been going on?"

His eyes widened for a moment, but quick smart he yanked his arm away, and shook out his sleeve.

"Am I not allowed friends?" he retorted, and I shrunk, startled by the strength in his voice. "See this is why I didn't want to tell you!"

"Why would you need friends, stupid, you have me!"

He gave me quite an unnecessary glare, spun on his heel, and stalked stoutly away.

He did not emerge from his room the rest of the evening.

I met Mathias in a café, the one he works in, actually, lunch break the next day, because I needed someone to buy me a shortcake and well, Mathias made great coffee. That was about the only good thing about him besides his dick.

"You should have seen him!" I complained, leaning over the back of the barista-y machine thing he was working at and trying to avoid the plumes of steam that issued forth occasionally. "All trashy looking and suchlike… he had rips in his jeans!"

"Uh huh…" Mathias, with his forehead crinkled and his cream apron covered in cocoa powder and milk, was obviously not listening. He reached beneath the counter for a cup and clicked it into the machine, I smelled the thick stream of coffee splattering in the bottom, and relaxed a little. "You know Niky, he's allowed to have friends."

"Yeah, nice friends. I don't want him hanging out with hooligans!"

"What's your idea of a hooligan?" he grabbed a can of ez-whip cream and shook it fiercely. "No sugar right?"

"Right, and well… you know! Someone loud, band t-shirts, doesn't shower..."

"Sooo…" he whipped the top of my coffee and presented it, "me?"

"Yes. Where's my marshmallow?" he grinned at me cheekily and held a marshmallow forward, by my face, in an obvious invitation to eat. I sneered, but took it anyway. Not with my teeth mind, with my spare hand after receiving the coffee.

"Going on my break now!" he chirped to his underling, a pimple faced girl with pigtails. And she shrugged, obviously indifferent. It wasn't particularly busy in the café, having just wrapped up with the lunch rush all was calm. He pulled off his apron, revealing jeans and a red sweater, and upon bouncing around the front of the counter planted a kiss brightly on my eyebrow.

"You look good today," he commented, and I scowled.

"How I look isn't the focus mat, its Emil! Why is he acting like this?"

"I dunno dearest. I'm not a mind reader."

"You're good with teenagers!"

"Ugh… Niky…"

"Don't call me that." we sat down at a free table and I pulled off my heavy black coat. "Help, for gods sake. Be useful for once in your life." I sipped my coffee moodily and huffed. "It's too sweet."

It wasn't. But he could use a little poking anyway. I was just in the mood to be cruel.

He ignored me, setting his chin in his palm and screwing up his nose. "You're too sweet Niky."


"Love you."

I kicked him under the table, and went back to drinking my drink.

Things escalated a few days later, when I came home weighted down by a billion files and interview transcripts, and realised there was an unfamiliar car parked in the drive. Not just any unfamiliar car, either. A really fancy unfamiliar car. A Mercedes. The only person I knew who could afford a Mercedes was my boss, and no offence to him but he was a cunt. I doubted he would ever have taken the time to stop by my house casually, one afternoon.

Sighing, knowing with a low ache of despair that it was that Asian kid again, I ascended the stairs and pulled my keys from my pocket, not surprised when the door opened without it. As soon as I did so, a wave of mellow indie fluted out, the sweet perfume of that vanilla incense Emil sometimes burned crinkling my nose.

"Emil?" the kitchen was deserted, so I set my things on the kitchen table and sighed. "Okay. Fine. We will play it this way then."

Being home, I felt that I should probably make myself comfortable, before tackling the bigger issues, so I pulled my barrette from my bangs and stripped off my socks, before padding over the linoleum and into the hall, down from the living room waited. I was feeling a migraine on the horizon… it was probably Mathias's fault. Stupid fuck.

"Emil, tell your friend to leave now, I need you to-"

I dropped my sentence when, upon pushing the door open, I found it was not just Emil and his friend that I walked in on, although it technically was. It was Emil and his friend tangled in some kind of half clothed copulation, the school shirt I had spent almost an hour ironing the weekend before for him cast long since on the floor and the pressurised can of chocolate cream i had stolen from Mathias being shared between them, sucked off fingers and lips and smeared liberally over young necks.


The two jumped, having been very much caught in the act, and the bloody Asian rapist slipped right off the sofa and my brother, landing in a startled pile on the floor.

"Nikolas! Hey!" Emil glanced at the wall clock, trying to hide his bare chest and opened fly with a silk throw pillow, but seeing that it had gone five he took on an expression of despair and understanding that clearly he had forgot. "You've met Leon, right?"

Leon blinked at me, startled as all hell, and raised a hesitant hand in salutations. He was only wearing boxershorts.


"… Leon, I think you had better leave."

He wasted no time, grabbing everything of his in lightning speed and after cheeking the hell out of me by pecking a kiss on Emil's crown, dashing past still in his underwear. Probably to the front seat of his poncey ass car. As if driving my little brother wasn't enough. Emil looked sufficiently shamefaced, with a fair side of mortified. Good thing too, because it took a lot of self control to walk to the cast off shirt and toss it back to him, brushing my bangs back and wishing I had kept my cross in. jaw tight, fingers twitching, I waited for him to dress before asking in my most reasonable voice, what the fuck he thought he was doing. And regretfully, now he was dressed, he seemed a little more defiant.

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

"… How is it not my business? You're living in my house under my rules."

"So?" he scowled and folded his arms. "It's my body. I can do what I like with it."

"Um, no you can't."

His eyebrows flew up and he stood, smoothing his shirt and setting the chocolate cream on the coffee table.

"Uh, yes I can."

"My house, my rules."

He seemed lost for a moment there, and I was glad he couldn't see or hear the panic in my chest, and the way in which my stomach was cartwheeling inside my guts. Was this really happening? Was I having this conversation with my Emil? I was feeling dizzy with disbelief, still reeling in shock. This was insanity…

And then he found his tongue.

"Fine." He told me coldly, eyes snapping to dangerous slits. "Be that way. I guess I don't want to live in this house anymore. See you."

"Hey!" I tried to catch him as he stalked past, but he was much too swift. "Where do you think-"

"I dunno. Maybe I will go live with Leon. Or Mathias! How about I go live with Mathias? He's a good guy, and he deserves better than you."

"You take that back!"

"Why? Its true and you know it's true."

And then he left me be, in that particular way that Emil often did, with the impression that he had bitten back a lot of what he wanted to say, and puzzling over what could have possessed him to do these things, and say these things.

For many a year I had thought I knew and understood my little brother, but the boy was like an iceberg. The biggest, coldest part, cracked far beneath the surface.

In a desperate need to distract from my family situation (Emil had disappeared, and though my initial instinct was to phone the police I withheld) I sat myself down in my office with a folio and my laptop, intending to finish writing up my next weeks column. For seemingly the first time, the irony of my occupation was not wasted on me, and I exhausted a good hour sorting through letter after letter in the hopes that I would find one, any one, that didn't fill me with a dire sort of dread, like the feeling of waking up one night and seeing in an empty corner, something you simply did not want to see.

Dear Nana

One poor bastard wrote, in smudged green pen.

My girlfriend has been cheating on me for almost three months now. I know, she knows I know, but she won't say anything and I can't. I just love her too much and every time she does it it hurts me. When will she see this, and stop? Why is she tugging me around like this? What should I do? Please help!

I frowned. This one didn't make me feel too guilty, but then, it didn't make me all too comfortable either.

I placed it on the maybe pile and grabbed another.

Dear nana.

Ever since my husband left me, my mother in law and my son have been treating me like the hussie he ran to spain with. How can I get them to respect me, and admit that he didn't leave because he was unhappy with what I was doing for him, and how I was doing it, but that he was a lying, heartbreaking bastard?

Disrespectful youth? That was a no-go tonight. I cast it aside.

The next letter almost made me want to be sick.

Dear nana.

I'm only just out of high school, and I am a serial user.

I fuck men because they give me money. Cars, houses, gadgets, you name it and I get it. Its so easy for me, to manipulate them to give me what I want, and I need them to give me this because without it, I feel like I'm an ugly waste of space and no-one would ever love me. My friends are all jealous, because I have my own house and car and everything I want, courtesy of four oblivious boyfriends, but they don't understand the horrid drunk addiction this lifestyle has instilled in me. What do I do to break this cycle? Should I break this cycle? Am I bad human being?

Definitely not.

I sighed, raking my hands through my hair and squeezing back the headache scratching rusty nails on the inside of my skull. It was a salty, dehydrated feeling, which made no sense because there was my drink bottle, typically half empty beside me, and here I was more or less shriving up from misery alone. Why were people so messed up? Why was everything so messed up? Why couldn't folk sort their own problems? It wasn't like nana had anyone to go to, when the going got tough.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going

The though trained around my head with cheerful ridiculousness, and I groaned. I wasn't tough, I sure as hell wasn't tough. Not that I ever claimed to be. But one didn't really need to, when one was in control, holding all the fragile pieces of everyone's world together. What would Emil do without me, after all? He would have been raped a thousand times by now. And what about my job? If the newspaper didn't have Nana, no-one would use the shitrag even to line the litter box. The articles were crappy and the supporting journalists crappier. And Mathias. Forget Mathias. He was nothing. A mild convenience.

The sex really was great.

Over all, my life was pretty much the centre of the universe. Not to be superior or unpleasant or anything but how dare anyone question me, or what I did. I was Nana, and Nana knew all. Nanas word was god. Forever and ever amen. Especially bitch new bosses or gutter trash Asian bastards. Fuck everything. Everything but me. Nothing else mattered and without me then-

I hadn't realised I was trying to convince myself of this until the phone rang. That dreaded shrill brrrrringgg-brrrrringggg, the harbinger of bad news. Maybe they had found Emil, maybe something truly awful had happened to him. It was late after all, and I couldn't think of any other reason someone would call.

Maybe it was Emil, and he would just let the phone be on the side table while he let that brat fuck him like a sextoy.

My thoughts were running away with me, and even though I knew that Emil would never, ever sink that low, in the heat of the moment I really did believe it, and so it was with a choked sort of fear that I took the phone from the cradle and croaked a shaky 'Hello?', as if I feared the mouthpiece might bite me.

"Hello Nikolas?"

"… Yes?" I recognised the voice, but couldn't place it through my relief and the hectic thoughts spiralling through my consciousness.

"It's Arthur, from work."

Arthur, that was right. The new secretary. Only male secretary in the existence of time itself, I was sure.

"Oh, hello Arthur."

If my stomach was low then, it was even lower now. It sloughed all the way to the pit of my torso, and would probably have just dropped straight through the bottom onto the floor, had I not been wearing trousers with a crotch so strong it could support a full sized suspension bridge and erase all possibility of me reproducing successfully ever in one easy swoop.

"I'm sorry to ring you so late, but I've been asked that I ring you and inform you that we are going to have to let you go. I'm truly remorseful."

He didn't sound remorseful.

As I hung up, wordlessly and thinking that maybe I had just been punched in the gut by some invisible presence, I had to remind myself that it wasn't Arthur's fault after all, he didn't sound sorry. He was barely a youth, had probably only met me face to face once or twice, and over all seemed like a brisk, instruction following individual, but it was relatively difficult to simply brush it off. I think I must have been in shock.

I sat there numbly for another ten minutes, before the fuzzy late night light dissolved completely, and I slept.

It was to the phone ringing again I awoke to, and grumbling I dragged myself across the sofa, to answer it. I had slept awfully, my neck hurt and my clothes were creased and sticking to my sticky skin. There were papers all over the floor.

"Nikolas speaking?" I croaked, and without warning a bright, strong voice punched my eardrum, his greeting exuberant, in the most irritating way imaginable.

"Hey Niky, it's Mat. So your brother is at my house right now?"

Fucking hell. I grunted, and let my head drop into my couch cushions. I remembered bit by bit, what had occurred the previous night, for me to be here the next day.

"Oh god." I struggled up and rubbed my face tiredly. "Fucking hell. Tell him…" my mind blanked for a moment. "Tell him to get his dumb ass home. Now. That he's grounded, and that he had better fucking stay away from that raping mother fucker or else I will… I will… something. I dunno. Make something up. Make it threatening." I creaked to my feet and sniffed my underarms. Terrible. I needed a shower. "Make sure he does it please. I need to go into work. I have an asshole to punch."

I hung up.

My boss wasn't at work when I showed up, but obviously everyone else had been warned in advance I was likely to arrive breathing fire, and so I was treated with awe and fear on my stalk up the several flights of stairs, and workers left a wide radius as I moved.

I reached the desk, slapped my hand down hard on the bell, and secretary Arthur looked up at me, talking softly with someone on one of those fancy earpiece phones and sealing envelopes.

"Would you please hold for a sec?" he asked the earpiece in his rolling accent. "Thank you." A swift finger darted forward, and he clicked the button on the phone that would shift the caller over lines.

"Hello Nikolas." He greeted me with a small, polite smile. He looked intelligent, and I must admit I respected that. Arthur wasn't so bad. "Here to blow of some steam?"

"Is it that obvious?"

A knowing look, he shook his head almost sorrowfully, but still I got the feeling that he didn't really feel for me. I was a stranger.

"I am sorry," he said, "but the big man replaced you."

"What?" I asked him. "He cant do that, that's bullshit."

"He technically can't, but he did end your column and made you redundant."

"At the last minute?"

"Well, no. you are officially still on the pay roll for three months, but he requested you end your column with today's publication. You will continue getting money for a while, and a redundancy payout, but I'm afraid… he's replaced you."

"Replaced me?" I gave him an incredulous look, but it was probably wasted considering my incredulous look was relatively similar to every other one of my looks. "With what?"

"Erm… you could meet him if you like? He's fresh out of journalism school." Arthur pulled a face, and I almost, almost could have picked up on a shy dislike there. "Real 'funnyman'." The soft shake of his head indicated sarcasm. I pressed my lips together.

"Yes please." I told him tightly, clenching my fists. "Bring him out. I would like to see what this dirty job usurping asswipe looks like."

Arthur nodded, keying something into his phone and speaking into the mouthpiece. "Could you send Li Xiao out for me? Nana wants to see him."

In my mind, I was weighing it up. Would it be worth the assault charges, if I kicked him in the face?

The new and improved journalist, a young guy, Arthur told me, who wrote some kind of teenaged advice column about sexual health and other pathetic gossipy things, was currently out on morning tea. I didn't care, taking a stout seat in the office among rustling papers and ringing phones, only metres from my own, closed off little work room with my computer chair, and potted yucca in the corner. I was told I wasn't allowed in, even though the transfer on the door still read 'Nana's office' and that wasn't fair, because I was Nana, wasn't I?

Not any more, apparently.

I passed the time by reading old newspapers, amazed at how big a rag of crap this publication was at its best, and disgusted by how awful it was at the worst. My news paper was the sort that catered to the ignorant public, posting stories about UFOs and royal conspiracies. It was pathetic really, that anyone would read it, and I tried not to think about how pathetic it was I worked here. It pained me, it really did.

"Hello, Nana. I was told you wanted to see me?"

A pleasant, male voice roused me and with my eyebrows cocked I lifted my head, to see the face I was about to destroy.

Well. I have had some unpleasant surprises in my life. Really I have. Living with Mathias around was guaranteed to ruffle a persons feathers more than once, but I can honestly say that this, the most perturbing moment of my life, was made only worse by the apologetic sort of smile my counterpart regarded me with at first, sliding and being replaced with horror, his already fine, honey coloured skin draining to sheet white.

"Oh. My. Hello."

He looked no less an asshole with clothes on than he did dripping all over my little brother.

"… You must be…"

"Erm, Annie." He held his hound out awkwardly. "Ask Annie. The paper changed its demographic from adult to like, teens."

"I see." Hesitantly, and rustily, I lifted my heavy hand to clasp his, squeezing his knuckles as had as I could in the shake. He had the grace not to wince, and I suppose in the way a man respects his worst enemy I did admire that. A little. But I still despised him.

Arthur behind his desk was chatting away, oblivious, clearly, to the tension going on in the office space. Phones were ringing, papers were shuffling, and the boring photocopy atmosphere bustled on with only the subtlest crackle of tension ebbing below it. At least, far away from me that is. All the pressure was centred around me, threatening to slaughter the young man opposite, and I had a rather horrible thought.

This kid was old enough to have been to journalism school. That made him at least twenty.

Twenty, and into my sixteen year old brother.

Rudely, I ejaculated the question on my mind.

"How old are you?"

He sighed tightly, blank and pained expression unchanging, and rubbed his eyebrow.

"Would you like, like to come into my office?"

I didn't. I shook my head and stood. When I bent to pick up my satchel, I noticed my hand was quivering.

"No. I don't. I've seen all I need to see."

And with my lower lip shaking, my vision blurring with numb rage, I left the clattering business of the office behind, unsure as to where in the world I could go to next.

Straight away I rung Emil.

I managed to get through to voice mail, after only two rings. Not automatically, like if he had his phone off, or after a stretch of ringing that drilled into my mind, like if he couldn't hear it go. Two rings. Just enough time to check caller ID and click 'ignore'.

Hissing my frustration in a ribbon of low breath swears, I yanked my phone from my ear and tried to hunt through my contacts for someone, anyone I could talk to. Someone to complain to. To nod, and say I was right, and okay.

I had seven contacts. Emil, My cousin Berwald who was nice but wouldn't care, and his lover Tino who was nicer but tended to ramble and gossip. My ex-boss, Emil's school teacher and the telecom call centre. And of course…


I whined, not wanting to talk to him about it. As if he would give a fuck. He was obviously on Emil's side with the whole fucking thing, and I never really talked to him about my job, since that time he had laughed at me for half an hour about it.

I knew no-one. I had no-one.

For the first time since I was that pathetic, toilet lunchtime teenager, I needed a friend and wasn't sure I had one.

Mathias wasn't working today, but I stopped in at his café on the way home, taking my usual corner seat, and sitting alone to think.

They kicked me out of the café.

I couldn't believe they kicked me out. The big cheese actually came over, polite enough I suppose, and said that though I was a valued customer, and though I was sleeping with one of the managers, they could only let me sit in the place for five hours without buying anything, and I would have to leave.

By this time, it was about four pm, and I was cold, hungry and even more miserable. The time spent in the café was blurred and timeless, I couldn't remember one moment through to the next, and the moments had poured like sand through fingers struggling to clutch at something meaningful in the suddenly papery set of my life. I had thought of many things, I suppose, dragging fetid memories of youthful rejection, or parental negligence, and romantic failure. Thoughts of my early teens became reflections on my later ones, of working tirelessly without any ambition beyond that of proving myself to pointless end, the mana of no-one in particular. It became pride, in Emil and what he had accomplished until now, and it became memories of some crazy little coffee boy, scribbling shameless note after shameless note begging for a date on my napkins, even after three café swaps and a small restraining order. And after all that… being, after all that roughing it, and shoving through, in order to make myself and my brother a life… I was being told I was invalid. That my ward didn't respect me or want my care, and that my only talent was useless to even the shittiest newspaper in the whole of the city, nay the country.

That sucked.

Maybe some part f me had always suspected that these things, these ghosts of misfortune would catch up with me some day, and break all my fingers like I had stomped on their toes in my battle for accomplishment. Maybe I had always been trying to avoid them, to lift myself up above them, out of the way of the hungry karma with my name in black all over it. I wasn't a good man, I knew that, but I wasn't evil. I did what I did to get by, I left everyone alone, and wasted many an hour wishing other people would leave me alone too. And now I was this. Here. Totally pointlessly stuck and lost with nowhere to go and nothing to hope for. At all.

A part of me, the steeled, mechanical part, told me that I would just have to pull up and go job hunting tomorrow. Fine, I would do that. I would call my cousin tomorrow and ask if he had need for a broom boy. There was always a shitload of sawdust and woodchip in his workshop. And if he didn't need a broom boy, so I would go to Tino, and ask him if he needed a cleaner at the kindergarten. Probably not but it was worth a try. And if not that then… well I would figure out that when I came to it.

With the job resolution forming in my head, I pulled my jacket tighter and huffed, squaring my shoulders and making a purposeful arrow home. I began to think about Emil, and what I would do about my brother.

That child has always been my weakness.

My confident strides hesitated a bit, as I remembered what I had been trying to forget almost all day. Emil was having some kind of sexual relationship with another human being. Something I had always tried to warn him off of, because trusting other people only ever ended in pain and frustration. Not just any human being either, a job stealing Asian fuck called Leon Xiao or something, who looked eighteen but was most likely twenty something and a closet paedophile. How could he go against my word like that? Betray me like that? He was such a little… ugh! And that Leon! What did he have that I didn't! Good advice and some sort of brother thieving sex appeal that could only be used for evil. He was a sibling stealer too! How utterly sick. How utterly cruel, the cosmos is, to have landed me in this situation where some other man, a youth even, has taken my place. Is more important.

I didn't have many niches, in my life. And this stranger had taken my role in two of them.

I was essentially moot.

As an individual who has just realised they have no purpose knows, the world becomes a much more bleakly beautiful place, post epiphany. Feelings become a lot more lucid, things like the grey sky become canvases of perfection, and the eddies of leaves dancing winds on the street whisper sorrowful secrets to the ears of the city. I walked, as if in a bubble, down the mainstreet, and rather than take the tube home like I usually would, I banked right on auto pilot, ducking past shoppers into a smaller street, where locals pawned and bartered, and the shop fronts were a little more homely and authentic. Down this street, then left across from the Indian food market, I spotted the bus at the stop twenty metres away and jogged to meet it, just in time.

Mathias's home was five blocks away, a small flat that was actually a half of a free-standing house, the second storey also rented to an elderly lady called Mrs. Munro. The lovely old dear (what can I say, I liked the elderly) was deaf as a post, however, and so it never became an impediment to our sex life. She did make wonderful coffee cake, which Mathias always had a lump of in his cupboard. I hadn't even noticed I was on my way there, until I was swiping my card over the blue checkout point outside, the pretty Tudor style building blending in perfectly with the cream, thatched roofed beauties either side. There was a rose, creeping over the façade of the house, and though it was cold a few resilient flowers clung to it, on a kamakazi mission to be beautiful, for just a few more days.

Upon seeing the place, I felt my eyes prickle. I had never been here in the daylight previous, and when I left in the morning I never looked back. I hadn't seen the roses before. Was this even the right house? I didn't recognise it, without the blear of late night drunkedness, horniness, and want. It was so peaceful, cosy and welcoming…

I jumped off the bus and tucked my card in my wallet, adjusting my scarf and taking a deep breath. It was almost 4.20, and beginning to grow a little dark.

Wobbling legs, tired, exhausted legs carried me up the gravel path to the door, and a hesitant fist lifted, then knocked, as I swallowed my spit and my pride and tried to calm my fluttering heart. A small intercom I hadn't noticed dinged, right above the doorbell on the left of the frame, and I jumped.

"Hey, Mathias's crib. Who are you after?"

"… Mat?" my voce sounded funny. A bit soft, and weak. "it's me, is Emil there?"

"Nah, he left." Came the crackly reply. "Went to some friends house, I think. Told me to tell you he'd stay there until you apologised. Did you to have a fight?"

The intercom spat a stray mouthful of static and I winced, tummy twisting, wondering what I should say to fill the silence.

"Oh." I settled on. "Okay."

I thought then that I should probably leave.

It was strange, that even though I had made the decision, and decided I did want to get gone, I couldn't move. I simply couldn't move. I was stuck there, waiting, and I wasn't even sure what for. Sure, I felt stupid, and upset, and hated myself for it, but I lingered just a moment longer than I should have, and as stupid as Mathias is, he picked that up, the intercom box sparking back to life and asking

"Niky, are you okay?"

And that was the event horizon. The moment it became all too much.

I started to cry.

"Oh Niky… Niky don't cry…" he held me close and brushed his hands through my hair. "Don't cry dearest, don't cry."

I whined and wrung my fingers in his shirt, shaking, aching, feeling like a broken mug with all the coffee inside leaking out the cracks. At least Mathias was warm. And he smelled good. So, so good.

"What's wrong?" he breathed in my ear. "Would you like to come in and sit?"

I nodded weakly, and wiped my tears away

"I can make you a coffee."

Oh, I had never heard anything so wonderful in all my life.

"So what's the deal?" Mathias and I sat in his sitting room slash bedroom, and I thought bitterly that though it was a nice house, in a nice neighbourhood, Emil could never share this space, it was so fucking tiny. He was looking quite happy sitting cross legged on his bed (which doubled as a sofa and general vegetating position), cross legged, with a little mermaid pillow held tight against his chest. I favoured the other end, and thought for possibly the first time ever, that I was glad Mathias wasn't big on furniture, and that the bed was the only comfortable place to sit if one wanted to watch TV. Or socialise. Or… cuddle.

His house was a lot like his personality. Messy, but organised, and cramped to bursting the plasterboard seams. There was a TV by the door, a wardrobe on the other side, a kitchenette to the left and a bed along the far wall, running under the window that faced into a back alley, off the pretty street front I had met when arriving. He certainly didn't live here for the view. His clothes spilled out of the raised wooden drawers he had beneath his bed, and his bathroom was through the kitchenette, and I knew that if I had to live here I would have gone insane by now, but it seemed to suit him just fine. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford a decent place, if the inclination to move took him. But it just didn't, I suppose. Mathias was a tough nut. He would sleep in a gutter wrapped in bearskin, if someone threw him there. There were a lot of books, though. Mostly fairy tales. And old posters and records from past music festivals and beer drinking bashes he had been to. Mathias sure did like his music festivals and beer bashes.

And maybe I hadn't realised until a few moments gone that the flat was actually my happy place. Because it was always warm, bright, and smelled of Mathias's dirty laundry. Which doesn't seem like it would be appealing but heavily cloaked in a veil of metallic man-perfume and hair wax, it really actually is.

Okay, maybe it wasn't the place itself that filled me, so much as the feeling of warmth that sort of crept under my skin when I was here. Usually I found it overbearing, and horrible, but right then I felt horrible, and all I wanted to do was drown in it. Completely. So when he asked what was 'the deal,' I told him more or less upright.

"I hate my life."

It was something that had been weighing on my shoulders for far too long, and rather than tell me to grow up, like my snide brat of a brother may have, or blow me off like my boss, he sighed, burying his nose in his pillow and observing me with concern-flecked blue eyes, before rising to his feet awkwardly enough off the bed.

"How about I set around to making you that coffee."

"You have a cute nose." He told me sweetly, nuzzling the side of my face and jolting my arm a bit, while I tried to drink. "I say it a lot but it's true."

"… shush." I didn't have the strength to argue today. The full creaminess of his coffee, made on the fancy ass machine from legit café grind, was wonderful. It was so good, I didn't even care that it was decaf. He was being all very snugly too, curling around me, his arms strung around my waist and his chin resting on my shoulder. The TV was on, but only for background noise. Neither of us were watching, too busy in our small thought filled worlds.

"Well you do. You are so pretty."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true. You are the most beautiful, wonderful, exquisite creature I've ever seen." He punctuated with cheek kisses. "And I love you. Very much."

Hearing it made me feel eons better. My heart fluttered, and I pressed my lips together tightly.

"I know."

"You should relax, okay? You worry too much and work too hard."

"I won't be now," I confessed, sipping my coffee. "I was fired."

He hesitated for a moment, brow creasing, but immediately afterward his expression smoothed, and it was replaced by compassion.

"I'm sorry. Would you like to talk about it?"

I shook my head, and he sighed, breath buffering my cheek.

"How about Emil?"


I didn't really, at that moment, want to talk to Mathias about either of those things. Mathias was my distraction, my small, grubby, miserly little splatter of light in a shit day, and I didn't want to waste him by dumping all my issues on his shoulders. In the morning, I would be better, I knew this not from experience, but from with a long, troubled relationship with myself. But tonight, I wanted to forget.

At least here I was still wanted and needed.

"I also hate Leon Xiao." I told him cryptically, beginning to see the brother-fucker for the first time as not just a rapist or a job stealer, but a malicious replacement me. "And my boss. And that café you work at. And-"

"But you don't hate me right?" he interrupted, running his nose over the shell of my ear. I thought about it for a moment, sucking my teeth, though the instinctual answer was instantaneous I had to elaborate if I really wanted to admit that.

"No." I gave in. "I don't hate you."


I tried not to reflect on how I had probably made his day.

He left me to finish the rest of my coffee, watching the TV over my shoulder but probably not processing the image. I had never really paid much attention to Mathias's looks and mannerisms before but for some reason I knew his exact expression right now, glazed and tight with worry, but fatherly, and affectionate. I could feel his chin digging into the juncture of neck and collar, his hair tickling my cheek. He smelled good.

Coffee done, swirling the half-moon left at the bottom of the cup and letting a deep weariness steal over me, I set the cup back down on the windowsill and sighed, leaning back into him and tipping my head back, to see him watch me. He had really blue eyes, and not that cold, common blue either. Bright, warm blue. Even in the monochromatic TV light.

"Y'okay?" he barely breathed, but I heard it clear and good.

"Yeah." I sighed back, searching his eyes for some kind of indicator I should distrust him. There were none though. Just endless stretches of patience and adoration I couldn't comprehend. "I'm fine."

His lips curved handsomely, and my stomach churned, like those metaphorical butterflies one reads about. My fingers curled in his pant leg, I tipped my chin, and cautiously, sedately, I initiated a kiss.

It was like I was really kissing him for the first time.

"Can I have a shower first?" I asked him, pulling back from the tangle of our bodies and struggling to catch my breath. "I haven't showered today and I woke up gross this morning."

"Huh?" he seemed a bit stunned, dragging himself up and trying to flatten his mussed hair. "Oh, yeah, sure."

He had teeth marks on his jaw bone.

I jumped off his bed swiftly and, pulling off my shirt, made my way through to the bathroom. I only wanted a quick rinse, and some… other things, so that I wouldn't have to worry when we had the impending sex. Besides, I needed a moment to gather myself. It wasn't often I was the one desperate to fuck. I wasn't sure I was willing to dispose the last of my dignity.

I thought about that as I switched the rosy lights on, and hitched the knob in his shower. The small, humble bathroom warm and sweet smelling. When was the last time I had asked him to do me? Or implied I wanted to.

I stripped off, smelling myself, my semi-erect penis catching painfully in my underwear. Plumes of steam issued from the shower head, the bathroom really was nice. Heated floor and everything. If I remember correctly, he had actually had Berwald fix it up for him. It had been done for free, 'sleeping with my cousin' benefit. It was nice. Wonderful, actually. Stepping into the shower was like stepping into another world.

I scrubbed quickly, the hot water rivleting over my skin, rinsed my hair off, and five minutes after stepping in I was done. I moved out, and went to grab a towel off the rack.

But then I hesitated.

Mathias had a pile of unwashed shirts in the corner, in a tall laundry basket. Red, white, grey, black… Mathias liked shirts. A lot. They were heavily pregnant with his smell, his deodorant, his shampoo, his sweat. Biting my lip, dripping pale and my skin beginning to goose pimple, I grabbed one, wrapping it around myself and slicking my wet hair back off my face. My pinky finger caught in the wirey lock of blonde at the nape of my neck, and I winced, the sensation peculiar and pleasant.


"Don't call me that," I told him, across my shoulder. "I will be out in a Minuite."

"How about you be out now?"

"I-oh!" I stumbled backward into him when his arm curled around my waist, catching his arm and noticing he had removed his shirt "what are you doing?"

"Couldn't wait." He kissed my neck, and brushed the back of his knuckles up my thighs. "Come to bed."

"I was on my way to bed." The hair on the back of my neck prickled, "stupid."

"Shh." He buried his warm face in the side of my neck, "be nice."

I bit my lip, eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm always nice."

"Lies!" he laughed, dragging me backward through the bathroom door and into the main room of his flat again. "Oh you little liar Niky. You are a nasty piece of work and you know it."

His teases were kind, but for a moment I could actually all very easily see the truth in them. The concern was swiftly dismissed though, with a kiss and a tug against him. His sweet lips pulled the smallest sheepish smile from me, and woozily I patted his chest, in a gesture for him to slow and calm for a moment. He did as he was told, just like I wanted, and I made a mental note to let him have what he wanted for once, once I had asked this one last thing.

"You do love me, don't you? You wont leave me?"

Normally, Mathias would have laughed it off, with a stupid kissy voice 'ofcourse', but that day I think he must have understood the importance. How naked I felt and how needful. I didn't like feeling needful. My last resort, the worst of the worst, I recalled the feeling from only once in my obscured past and the circumstance was dubious to recall at best. I hoped I never felt it again.

"Yes." He told me firmly, but lowly, his laughing eyes calmed and lit with one of the most peaceful, adoring expressions I had ever seen before. "Of course I do."

His seriousness touched me.

"And never ever. Ever ever ever ever." He tipped his head to the side, and guided me backward, against the kitchen island that just swelled out of nowhere. "Okay?"

"mm." I wetted my lips without noticing, and ran my hand across the side of his cheek, feeling the details of his skin that eyes would not betray. The roughness of stubble, the soft downy and unshaved hair that fell just in front of his ears. Even the small pits and bumps of acne scarring, on his left cheek. He was stunning.


He kissed me again, wetter this time, and languidly, his lips parting and his tongue slipping against my own, trying to con mine to dance with it. The bench island dug into my back and my shoulders tensed and lifted. I felt like an asshole moving away again, but it was horribly uncomfortable.

"Bed please." I murmured.

"If you don't want to tonight we don't have-"

"I want to." I assured him, waiting for him to move so I could too. "I really, really want to fuck."

Mathias was patient when he wanted to be, and he waited for me to undress completely before inviting me to bed and beside his own fine, naked body. I don't know why exactly, I wanted to start like this. Probably because I was so used to stripping half naked in a quest to get laid, and finishing still partially dressed on top of the rumpled duvet. Doing it like this, totally bare, slow and cosy, seemed luxurious and special.

Patience became a bit irrelevant fast though, once I was there I didn't even have a moment to appreciate it, before he had his arms around my waist again, and his lips on my neck. Big hands explored my back and thighs, warm lips melted the seams of our bodies together, the heat between the sheets suddenly infernal, and the world withdrawing, boxing me and Mathias alone together in this small little sheet tent. He was all I could smell, feel, and see. And that was nice.

He started off fierce, but faded quickly.

A few heated moments of lusty biting and groping calmed to long, gentle touches and kisses that stretched for ever. His mouth heated and began to taste different. Not just like Mathias's mouth, sweet, and a little bitter with beer, but like something thicker, and stronger. Like burned sugar. It wasn't disgusting, rather it was heady and moreish, and in my quest to taste more of it, we tumbled, pulling the sheets from their tucked corners and dragging them across the bed in our wake. Cool air brushed the exposed plane of my back, his hot hands shadowing in its wake, squeezing my ass through a knot of sheets and dragging me up his thigh and hip, for friction. Groaning, I reached to pull the sheets back up and cover me properly, he struggled with them, and won, in the end pulling them from my hand and casting them at the end of the bed. Naked, bare to the air we embraced, fingertips warming spots bitten and pinkened by the cold. My back goose prickled, and feeling it he pushed me over so that I was sandwiched between him and the mattress, and warm.

"Fuck." He whispered, voice cracked and gravely. "Fancy you making out with me."

A thin glaze of spit glazed his lips, and whining, I traced it off with my thumb. My heart was racing. How long had we been here? Forever? It must be forever. Had to be.


"Okay, okay!" he laughed softly, running the back of his knuckles along my cheek and his fingers through my hair. "Chin up."

I lifted my chin and his mouth swept against mine.

"You need me don't you?" I mumbled, holding his head against my neck and melting, beneath his breath. He nodded, his hair tickling the frame of my face, and I whined softly in relief.

"I need you Niky."

"You love me?"

"I love you." His kisses, small and bunched like posys paraded down my neck and his fingers purred over my collar bone, pulling over it lazily. His fingertips sunk shallowly into my skin, and his lips followed after, the tip of his tongue dipping and tracing as he went. "More than anything. I absolutely adore you."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I passed it over with a hand raked through his hair, grip tightening assuredly, my head rolling back over the pillow and exposing my throat completely to him. Or not to him, as he sunk lower down my chest and pulled one stiff nipple into his mouth.

My nipples were not particularly erogenous, but I did appreciate the gesture, and exhaled heavily through my nose to show this, when he stroked his tongue around it, nose pressing into my chest. My fingers toyed easily with his messy hair, the soft blonde points and waves feeling sea-salty and beachy for the product he used, and smelling pleasantly like hair conditioner did. Sweet, clean, and fresh.

Slowly, he crept lower, and a wee bit trembly I pushed myself up on the headboard. My breath cut a bit, legs falling open with smooth hinged ease, and his fingers described the dip in my inner thighs, pressing to the base of my cock and pushing it up for easier access, when his tongue flickered over the back. Oh it was good. Warm, delicate, and I felt it not just in my cock but in my back too, tingles over my sides and in my nipples. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and my lips felt sensitive, when I pressed them together. His soft breathing was maddening.

"Suck it." I mumbled, rolling my shoulders back and letting my neck rest on the back of the Headboard. "Please."

It was the first time I had ever asked nicely during sex, and it felt weird to do, but I suppose there is a first time to everything and well I suppose it was a little liberating. Maybe.

His lips brushed the tip of my penis and slowly enfolded it, tongue flicking at my foreskin and his one hand rubbing the base patiently. My hips lifted, just a little, gaining momentum as his head bobbed patiently in my lap. For what its worth, his blue eyes filled my mind, the sound of his breathing and the feel of his hair enchanted me, and for the first time I could really feel the intimacy of this act. The closeness, and the gratefulness for what he was doing to me. Because it wasn't just sex anymore, was it? as much as I had tried to keep it that way. Somehow, here I was and there he was, giving me pleasure, because he loved me, and he wanted to. And I needed that. I loved it.

He had pulled off me by now, fingertip massaging intimately, his lips exploring down the inside of one leg.

"Feeling okay?"


His speech vibrated on my skin, his touch a wee bit irritating for want of lube.

"Get some lubricant or something."

"Sure. Spit or…"

"Not just spit, something else."

"But how about a little bit of spit?"

A momentary pause, I managed to catch my breath and roll my head around, to face him, a wee bit puzzled.

"Don't you have some?"

"Sure I do, but I want to try something else. Can I?"

Oh how could I say no to that face? Wide eyes, an adorable smile…

"Don't hurt me."

"I won't." The corner of his lip quirked and he licked his lips cutely. "Don't hurt me."

My heart began to flutter in excited anticipation, for what he was wanting to give. Some part of me knew, what it was, and although I had never considered it before as something I wanted to partake in, or something Mathias would want to partake in… I was a little excited. I shivered, eyes fluttering closed, when his hair tickled my legs, and made quite an embarrassing little noise about it too.

It was strange, being licked there, but not at all bad. It wasn't like being licked on my dick, the sensation very different, and I felt the spot flicker, sending small murmurs of pleasure through me. His hair smoothed under my palms, and I spread my legs even wider to accommodate him, so wonderful and teasing and oh that was nice. It was like… feeling him steal into me, and then slip out, wet and hot. Wonderful.

"Fuck Mathias that's good."

He made a satisfied noise and burrowed his face in further, my hips rising completely off the mattress and my weight shifting to my shoulders. I thought with a slew of regret that I couldn't stay like this for long, it wasn't exactly a convenient position, but I didn't need to say it because he was really getting down to business now, pressing his tongue inside and running it around, pushing me open, dragging his nails over my legs.

"Loose yet?" he asked crudely, moving back without warning and dropping my hips. Panting lightly, my legs quivering, I regarded him, and felt the first bristle of agitation arise.


"Want me to poke you some?"

"Don't say it like that!" I reached forward and hit him lightly around the side of the head. He kissed my knee.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"… yes, fine." I fell backward, too tired to argue. "Go ahead."


I heard him rummage around for lube, find it, crack it open and smear it all over his fingers. Then, I suppose to use his unpleasant words, he spread my legs and began… poking. Fingering. Fucking me with a single hand. The muscles in my legs chorded and I drew my back up in a dramatic curve. He started slowly, slipping in and out smoothly and causing little more than a pleasant warmth. And when it was comfortable for us both, he began spreading out with his fingertips, massaging, and tracing small circles over that most wonderful trigger. I bit my lip and drew handfuls of sheet up to my sides, and not loosing a single rub he moved clumsily up and pulled me into a dancing kiss. I melted, pushing my hands up his cheeks and into his hair. His lips tasted wonderful.

"Put it in." I breathed when he moved away. "It's okay. I need you inside me right now."

"You say that like you mean it Niky."

"I do mean it!"

"Then brace yourself because I am going to hammer you into this bed."

With an awe-inspired wildness I seized him an dragged a rough kiss from his lips. His hand withdrew from me and gripped my waist as I drove my tongue against his. "You had fucking better."

"Open your legs."

I spread as wide as I could, my toes reaching the edge either side, and he rolled between and gave it a swift tug. Teasingly he guided the head over me, pressing in just enough to egg an ache and then withdrawing again, and caressing me with the tip. I could feel the bump of his foreskin running over my perineum.

"Hurry up!" I yanked his hair and he tisked, easing the tip in and leaving it there long enough for the small ache to deepen into the mellow pain of penetration. I would be lying if I said that my teeth didn't grate and my thighs didn't tighten, but as he eased in I managed to relax enough for it to be tolerable. It was no where near as bad as the first time, and not even half as distant and impersonal. Chest to chest we lay, joined so intimately we could almost be one, his forehead against my neck and my arms tightly around his broad, sweat gauzed shoulders.

My body relaxed completely and I drooped beneath him, allowing him to pull me closer and sit back, so that I was straddling his lap and looking down onto his face. His arms were strong, taught with muscle, and he propped me up against his chest with ease.

"Feel okay?"

"Uh huh."

His smile sparkled with warmth and adoration through the low light.

"You look beautiful."

"Shh!" I pressed my hand over his lips. If he said things like that, I was going to cry again. "Just fuck me already."

"Hm," he released his tight hold and I had to grip fast, so as to not fall backwards. My legs protruded awkwardly behind him, and wincing I struggled to shuffle into a folded leg straddling position, and achieved it eventually. His palms found a home on my hips again though, and with a deep breath and a kiss sealing his mouth I experimented with lifting myself up and dropping down again, onto his dick.

It was a wonder the thing moved inside me at all. I could feel it drag along within, filling and pushing inhumanly at the seams. Mathias had an abnormally large penis, and often I wished it was thinner or shorter, because that would make it a lot more comfortable to mount. Not that I didn't love his cock, I just didn't always appreciate not being able to sit down for a day or two post sex. It was all very inconvenient really. Size didn't really matter, so much as how you use it, and luckily for me Mathias knew how to use it to. Besides, every now and then I just… wanted to be stuffed with man.

It was deeply gratifying, okay?

So for the first few motions the penetration was difficult. Not just for me but him too. Usually it smoothed out five or six in but I was lucky enough to be hugely, unusually aroused, and so I was thoroughly enjoying the ride by stroke three, my soft breathing growing irregular, and chunky.

"Alright up there Niky?" he panted, and I nodded, running my hands down his chest and pushing softly in a request to fall backward.


"Tell me if I do something you like."

I nodded again and wiped my brow with the hand of the arm not currently holding him on the bed. My legs were beginning to tingle and deep inside my pelvis the warmth of intimacy was taking root, growing, and blossoming to white petals of bliss up my back. A long, reverent groan escaped me, and he chuckled breathlessly, before speeding up. I whined and moved a little faster too, to meet him.

Soon we were rocking with a patient but swift precision, the sensations more compelling and magical than previous and the high even more dizzying. All over my body, hair prickled, my skin twinkled, and oh the mind I called my own, previously composed of thoughts and logic, was beginning to fail and swim.

"Oh Mathias!" my moans were buoyant, and he clutched me to him absolutely avidly, "it's so good Mathias…"

"You like that hm? You like being full like that?"

"Oh god so much!"

"Is it really good?"

"Yes! Its so good! So good baby so, so good!" my clumsy, childish hands fumbled a finger paint love song on his face, through his hair, and my mouth followed its wake. He hummed, and bit a sloppy retort on my shoulder.

"Niky keep doing that…" his panting in my ear drove me on, and I nodded fiercely, missing a beat and gasping when he threw me backward and began ploughing me, the bedhead banging the wall quite loudly. "You wonderful bitch."

I couldn't even point out how much I resented that statement, my stomach muscles beginning to form a net of tension, my legs beginning to quiver and his cock head burring hard against my good spot. Gasping I bit his ear, I wrapped my thighs so hard around him I don't know how it didn't snap him, and focused on the suddenly magnanimous sensation of having a dick pull in and out of me with huge force. The first muscles in my inner highs began to twitch, and my stomach leapt in anticipation when with deliberation he forced one thrust slowly, and then dragged his erection over my trigger. He alternated with this, between bursts of frantic fucking and the occasional languid push, when I was juuuust about to come. And when he groaned in agitation, one last time before resuming his mad pounding I knew. This was it. He was too rough though, too reckless, and with my orgasm approaching with lightning speed I needed him to slow down or he would knock me right out. I gripped his biceps.

"Oh, not so haard! Yes, like that. Oh. Oh… oh! Mathias! yes, yes YES!"

My head dropped back in ecstasy when my entire body broke out in fierce shivers and contractions, heat seeping right through me and my release drove into my very bones. Distantly I felt my cum spatter between us, only to be smeared in by his chest still sliding against mine, and everything in the world stood still in the moment he held me, kissing my cheek and jaw and stroking my sides with skilful fingers. He kept going, but not for long, and his orgasm too was jerky and powerful, his body buckling over mine and quivering with exhaustion in the aftermath.

I hadn't noticed until after he had rolled off me and kissed me messily, and deeply once more that he had come inside.

I didn't mind.


I just want to announce that I am wildly in love with louis theroux. :I otherwise, carry on as normal. Also I don't own hetalia etc.