Standing on the corner was nothing unusual for Lovino Vargas.

At nineteen years old, he knew the game of prostitution well. For the past two years he had been rolling the dice; because all the business really came down to was a game of chance. An eight would be rolled, and a woman seeking an affair would be his work for the night; a five and he would have the pleasure of being taken by an aggressive machista with no care for anything but himself, but who was he to be picky? It was work, after all.

Every now and then, Lovino would hear stories of his fellow prostitutes rolling those perfect snake-eyes and being taken by someone who respected them, someone who made sure they were pleasured as well. He heard the tales of how those rare occurrences were always something more than sex, always something more than a lustful employer and filthy money shoveled into a tainted hand afterwards.

For days the gamblers would walk around with a little glimmer in his or her eyes, a little shard of hope that seemed lost in the soul tearing business. Hope was something that not many were left with in the; they all had their reasons for succumbing to selling their bodies. For most: money.

Rent had to be paid, food had to be bought; to make ends meet, bodies had to be sold.

Lovino had yet to roll that perfect snake eyes, and quite honestly he didn't see what was so great about feeling like a special little snowflake for a night. Sex was sex. Money was money. That's the way the business worked, and so he continued to roll his threes and nines and do his work.

Every night on the corner was a gamble.


"What the hell are you doing?" Lovino attempted to snarl, but the words came out as nothing more than an aggressive kitten.

Ludwig looked towards the Italian, an eyebrow raised and his blue eyes calculating. "I'm about to go to the hospital," Ludwig answered bluntly.

"At this time of night?" He asked, hazel eyes widening. "The shift is about to start! Sadiq will wring your fucking neck if he finds out you've been slacking."

Their pimp, Sadiq was a loudmouthed bastard in Lovino's eyes. He was seemingly carefree, if obnoxious, most of the time, but Lovino knew that behind those cocky smirks lay a cruel man with a fist of iron. He was not one to allow his prostitutes to become lackadaisical. They were his employees, and he expected them to bring him his income.

"Do I look like I care, Lovino? You don't want him alone any more than I do," Ludwig stated, his eyes turning to iron. His decision was made, and backing out was no longer an option.

It was silent for a few moments as hazel met ice, but eventually Lovino relented. "Motherfucker you better call me if he wakes up!"

Not a word more was said as Ludwig nodded, turned, and walked out with a robotic wave of his hand as a form of goodbye.

Where others hoped of rolling that perfect snake eyes, Lovino hoped for rolling a thirteen: something just out of reach, and entirely impossible.


Lovino stood on the familiar street corner; a streetlamp illuminated the wet concrete. Fog slipped past his lips like smoke in the frigid air, though he paid it no mind. He was used to the cold by now, a travesty in his eyes; having been raised under the Mediterranean sun, heat was in his blood.

With hands shoved into the pocket of his thin jacket, Lovino's hazel eyes wandered over to the Brit standing beside him, a cigarette between his lips, the embers glowing as he sucked in a breath. Within minutes, Arthur was in the passenger seat of a minivan and out of sight.

Lovino grew nervous. Usually by this time he was swaddled within the confines of itchy covers, either thrusting or being thrust into. If he had no work, then he had no income, which meant his brother would be taken off of life support and die. With these thoughts his blood ran cold, but he couldn't allow himself to think such things. No one paid to fuck emotional baggage.

His worries dissipated when a car pulled up and the passenger window rolled down, and Lovino was stunned to be met with the greenest eyes he had ever seen. From the distance he was at, he could see that the man, clearly of Mediterranean descent, seemed very well-respected. High quality clothes, well-groomed, and a smile that seemed to challenge the sun. This was the type of man everyone loved, and Lovino hated; but if this was his job tonight, he would do so without question.

Lovino made his way to the window and knelt down. "Whatever you want, you pay up front," Lovino said bluntly, never one to mess around with business.

To Lovino's utter surprise, the driver actually laughed, and oh the sound infuriated him. "Si, I understand. So…uhm…what do you do now?" He asked, causing Lovino to blink incredulously.

"Motherfucker you're trying to pick up a whore and yet you're asking what to do?"

The Spaniard in the car simply shrugged his shoulders, not taking anything Lovino said to offense. "I've never done this before, and you clearly have. Humor me."

It took a few moments for Lovino to respond; he was pondering upon of his ill fate. Why couldn't Arthur have picked this one up?! Eventually, with a firm look on his face, he opened the passenger door and slid in, grumbling, "fuck it all to hell."

The action caused the man to smile wider. "I'm Antonio by the way, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, pleasure to meet you!" The car jerked forward, and Lovino was caught with an 'oof!' by the seatbelt, thankfully.

"Yeah yeah the pleasure is fucking mine," Lovino said scathingly. "Now if you'd slow the fuck down so we don't die-"

"Oh si! I didn't notice!" Antonio chirped, stepping on the brake slightly to slow the terrifying ride down. Lovino sighed in relief and ran his fingers through his hair. "Now, what was it you were saying about paying up front?"

Lovino relaxed in his seat and looked at Antonio through the corner of his eye. "You pay before you fuck me, or whatever else it is that you want." He then explained the prices for certain aspects, saying that he charged extra for certain kinks.

Antonio listened intently; truly interested in all that Lovino had to say. Immediately the prostitute could tell that this was Antonio's first time in such a situation, and he wondered the man's motive. He knew for certain Antonio was searching for a quick and easy fuck, someone who couldn't say no, but what he wanted to know was Antonio's deeper motive. There always seemed to be one; a housewife with children all grown up who feels lonely throughout her husband's working day; a virgin looking to lose said status; a multitude of reasons other than being horny.

Looking at Antonio's crotch, Lovino could see that the latter was not the case. The man was smiling as brightly as the sun shone, happy even though he was escorting a prostitute to a hotel room or home.

Lovino thought he knew this game well, he knew the fives; the threes; the double sixes; but he had yet to see someone of Antonio's variety. It intrigued him.

"I think I'll have you for the whole night," Antonio decided upon. A glisten shone in his emerald eyes.

It had been a while that someone had paid to have Lovino the entire night; his wages were pricey. Lovino's breed was rare to come by on the streets, and people would pay high amounts for a youthful, attractive Italian.

Soon the two pulled up to a respectable sized house, several stories tall with a well-pruned garden. "Fuck, you must be rich," Lovino found himself scoffing before he could block his words, but when did he ever?

"I do make a decent amount of money, yes," Antonio explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Lovino found himself growing envious. The things he would do if he had this kind of money…he couldn't allow his thoughts to wander; he had a job to do.

Lovino barely paid attention to the innards of the house, knowing that he would only grow more envious if he did so, and simply followed the Spaniard up a flight of stairs into a master bedroom decorated in reds and golds. It was regal in a way, and he briefly wondered if he were in the presence of royalty, though quickly shooed away the ridiculous thoughts.

Antonio moved to sit on the bed, giving Lovino an expecting look. Lovino rolled his eyes. "I told you bastard, you pay up front otherwise I'm not even undoing my pants fly."

"Oh!" Antonio exclaimed, giddily hopping up from his bed to reach for his wallet. "Gracias! I had forgotten!"

"What an idiota," Lovino grumbled, though accepted the hundreds that were forked over to him and shoved them in his back pocket.

As Lovino began to undress, he heard Antonio speak. "So…do you want me to lie down, or am I going to be in you?"

Lovino paused with his halfway-unbuttoned shirt to give Antonio an incredulous look. "Bastard, you paid, you choose whatever position you want to be in. You want to fuck me? Go right ahead. You want me to fuck you? Fine, but don't come bitching to me tomorrow when your ass stings like a motherfucker."

Antonio's eyebrows raised on his face before he was laughing once again, a bubbling, full sound. "All right Lovino!" He chuckled, that grin never leaving his face. Lovino wanted nothing more than to smack the grin right off, but he controlled himself and continued to unbutton his shirt, soon bare-chested in front of the handsome Spaniard, not that he would ever admit such a thing.

Soon his pants and boxers followed, leaving himself entirely nude in front of his customer. Lovino had long since gotten over the bashfulness of being naked, it coming like a second nature to him now.

Making his way to the bed, he sat down by Antonio, trying to ignore his wandering eyes. "So what's it gonna be?" Lovino asked impatiently.

The Spaniard tilted his head to the side as if pondering the complexity of the universe, and answered, "I think I'm going to pleasure you." With that, warm, soft lips covered Lovino's own, taking the Italian by surprise.

Very, very rarely did his customers kiss him, and never did they do so straight off the bat. What they paid for was sex, and that's what Lovino gave them, nothing more, nothing less, and this was certainly something more.

Nevertheless, Antonio did pay, and Lovino couldn't help but succumb to the lips working against his. His hazel eyes slipped closed as he felt strong, callused hands grip his hips, pulling him a bit closer.

Antoino's body was warm, strong, and Lovino found himself leaning more into the delicious heat. The strong hands tightened around Lovino's slender hips to raise the Italian onto his lap, causing Lovino to straddle him.

Their lips never broke throughout this, Antonio taking the lead and working his lips in a way Lovino never thought possible. When a warm tongue swiped along his bottom lip, Lovino parted his lips obediently to allow the muscle inside, proposing a dance with his own.

While the Spaniard and the Italian kissed, Antonio moved to discard his own shirt, only breaking the kiss for a few mere seconds, but soon reuniting them.

After a few moments of passionate kissing, Lovino found it quick to forget that this was a customer, not a lover. Never before had he done that; it was a promise to himself to never forget his place. No emotions were to reside in his job, only sex and money, nothing more, but for some reason, after a few moments, all barriers and rules had been scattered to the wind.

The prostitute soon found himself being rested on his back against the cushioned mattress, comfortable as the material sunk below him.

Lovino was quick to whine when the lips left his own, but he was soon gifted with fleeting kisses to his jaw, and neckline; little sucks to his collarbone followed by light nips, soothed over by an apologetic tongue.

The Italian found himself losing all traces of the rules he had firmly put in place. This man was different, he realized. Customers never cared for pleasuring him; every customer was selfish, caring for their own needs to satisfy, and that's what he did, he worked solely for them, not the other way around. This time, he was being paid for his pleasure, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Growing more aroused, Lovino's shaft stood half-erect and pressed against the Spaniard's own clothed groin. A bit of a needy sound emanated from the confines of his throat, something he had never allowed to happen before. The slight mewl only fueled the Spaniard, darkening the lustful haze in his bright eyes. Without any prior warning, their hips were met in a harsh grind, causing Lovino's head to fall back slightly and a moan to slip past his lips.

Their breathing was becoming more labored, and Antonio could no longer stand the fabric separating them. Antonio lifted himself up, leaving Lovino whining and cold, yearning for the heat that was previously encompassing him. The Spaniard made quick work of his slacks and boxers, discarding the clothes behind him with no care for where they landed.

Finally, with no more clothes separating them, Lovino took his time to fully admire the Spaniard's body in front of him. Slender yet muscled; tan from the sun of the Mediterranean; well-endowed but not abnormally so. This man was handsome in every sense of the word, and he would venture as far to say one of the sexiest beings he had laid eyes upon. In that moment, he realized something: he wanted this man. He lusted for Antonio; he desired him, and in all honesty, the concept scared Lovino. Never before had he lusted over his customers; of course, he could say that a fair few had been attractive and may have flirted had he seen them in any other situation, but this was something entirely different, and he was unsure of how to feel.

Lovino wasn't left to his thoughts for long though, because as soon as the wet heat of Antonio's tongue met his erect shaft, he was lost to the world. A loud cry escaped him, and without his permission his hips arched into the wonderful feeling.

The tongue traced from the base of his erection to the tip, following a pulsating vain and lingering just before the sensitive head, wanting to tease and pleasure him at the same time. Taking Lovino's moans and curses as noises of encouragement, his lips teasingly wrapped around the tip, tongue running over the slit while licking up the little bead of precum that had built up.

"Fuck…oh fuck Antonio stop the damn teasing!" Lovino gasped, eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Normally he never talked to his customers, the occasional dirty words if they were requested, but nothing along the lines of a command.

Antonio's lips formed a smirk around the head, but he complied and lowered himself down, taking more and more of Lovino's hardened shaft into his mouth. The cherry on top was when Antonio sucked and hollowed his cheeks to make the space tighter for Lovino, and once the man began to bob his head, Lovino's cries were wanton and merciless. It was the most pleasure he had ever experienced.

Normally, he finished with his customers, it was pleasurable after all, but this was ecstasy like no other.

The talented tongue drove him insane; the heat around him nearly scorched him alive; the pleasure nearly brought him to the brink, and he was so ready to finish right in Antonio's mouth, but apparently the Spaniard sensed this and pulled away.

A deep whine escaped Lovino at that, his hips bucking up from the bed in desperate need for the mouth to be back on him. "You bastard! F-Finish me!" Lovino commanded, voice heavy with want and lust.

Antonio, panting and catching his breath from the lack of oxygen, responded a moment later. "I will, but not like that." His voice was gentle even with the coat of want over the words. Lovino's eyes opened a bit, and he was caught staring into Antonio's warm eyes. "You're so cute, did you know that? Gasping for breath, horny and helpless for me, flushed like a ripe tomato…I could simply ravish you," purred Antonio; the heady words sent shivers down Lovino's spine.

"You f-fucking sap," Lovino accused, to which Antonio only smiled.

Reaching over to the bedside table, Antonio pulled out a bottle of lubricant, and coating three of his fingers in the slick substance. Once more he scanned his eyes over the panting and needy Italian before slipping one finger inside, pumping a few times before finding he was ready for a second finger.

Being stretched was nothing unfamiliar to Lovino, but there was something nice about Antonio being the one to do so. Antonio's hands were almost intoxicating, and he could tell so by the hand running up his side while the other stretched his entrance. The hands were callused from years of guitar playing and harvesting tomatoes, yet smooth in their own way, and Lovino found himself craving more.

Lovino winced once the third finger was placed inside him, as there was always that bit of pain that was unavoidable with stretching, though he didn't say anything. It was his job to go along with what his customer wanted, and more often than not he or she couldn't stand when he made noises other than moans.

This did not go unnoticed by Antonio, though. "Are you all right?" He asked, his voice filled with concern. The concern shocked Lovino, but what else was new? The entire night had come as a deviation from the norm for him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Lovino said, his lips in a tight line. He forced himself to relax and let Antonio prepare him, and soon he was past the point of pain and onto the point where it began to mix with pleasure, for which he was relieved.

Once Antonio deemed Lovino thoroughly prepared, he slipped the fingers out, leaving Lovino with a rather empty feeling. While rolling a condom on and slicking lube over it, Antonio looked down at Lovino once more. "Are you all right with this?" Antonio asked, seeking consent.

Lovino's eyes shot wide open with that, staring incredulously at Antonio. "You fucking paid for this, go ahead, fuck me," he stated, and Antonio did not seem satisfied with the answer.

A frown set on the Spaniard's lips at hearing that, and he pressed once more. "Lovino, I am serious, are you all right with this? Do you want me to go ahead?"

What was going on? Lovino wondered. He was a prostitute, consent wasn't an option, it was his job, something people paid him to do, and so he fulfilled his duties to receive the payment in return. There was never an option of backing out, and yet this seemingly stupid Spaniard was offering him the chance to say no, to stop right where they were and finish by their own hand. Though Lovino realized the latter option was not what he wanted; he wanted to feel Antonio fill him deeply, to feel that ecstasy he rarely ever felt. Something told him that this would be different, something he would never forget, and he wanted it.

"Go ahead," Lovino breathed, still in a bit of a haze from being prepared.

Antonio leaned down once more to kiss him to distract from the sensation of slipping inside Lovino. Both moaned at the feeling, Antonio from the hot, tight walls of Lovino clamping down around him, Lovino from the sensation of being filled.

The two looked at each other for a moment, and Antonio began to thrust into the prostitute, even if that's not what Lovino felt like at that moment.

Suddenly Lovino knew the stories weren't bullshit, they weren't some fairytale story. He had found the one customer to make the event something more than paid sex. It was something more than anything he had ever experienced.

Lovino knew the fives, he knew the threes, he knew them all by the back of his hand, but he did not know the twos – the perfect snake eyes. Rare and few, Lovino knew he would never roll these again, and when he did, it was only Antonio.


Weeks passed, and nearly every night Lovino was in Antonio's bed. Sadiq questioned Lovino about the regular, wanting to know just why it was that he kept coming for Lovino; not that he was complaining – the Spaniard brought him money, so he could care less, but it was simple curiosity.

Lovino realized he didn't know.

The next night, Antonio and Lovino were resting side-by-side on the plush and luxurious mattress after a passionate session. Lovino's breath was heavy; Antoino's was better as he recovered a bit quicker. Even though Antonio always paid for the entire night, they would only have sex once before falling asleep, Antonio allowing Lovino to share his bed. In the morning, Antonio would wake around eight am and get ready for work, allowing Lovino to sleep. When Lovino awoke, it was always to the sounds of shuffling in the kitchen and the scent of breakfast wafting up towards him.

The two shared breakfast together, idly making small talk, and when the time came Antonio would drop Lovino off at the street corner as per his request, then drive to his work. It had become a bit of a routine, and Lovino ventured far enough to dare to call it a domestic one.

Looking over at the Spaniard, Lovino caught his eyes. "Antonio…why…?" He asked, and he knew that the Spaniard would know what was being asked.

Antonio was hesitant to speak for a few moments, pondering to himself and trying to put together the correct words. "Because…every day I try so hard to make things better, and many times, no matter how hard I try, some people just cannot be fixed. I have to tell their family, make them sad. For once…I just wanted to make someone happy."

Lovino blinked at hearing the words, nuzzling under the covers just a bit to gain the warmth of Antonio's body heat mixed with the cotton sheets. It made sense on some level, but he didn't want to press further, though he vaguely wondered what it was Antonio did. He was too tired to ask.

It was in that moment, with the dim light of the bedside lamp shadowing Antonio's face, Lovino realized the full effect this man was having on him.

He was falling for the Spaniard, falling hard, and that was a very, very dangerous thing.

After being dropped off on the street corner the next day, Lovino waited for Antonio to haphazardly drive off before he set on foot to the hospital. He was familiar with the route by now and barely paid attention as he made his trek to the cold, seemingly unforgiving building.

Lovino knew that hospitals were only there to help people, but to him they were sinister places that always smelled of putrid lemon cleaner. To his misfortune, he was far too familiar with them.

Eventually, he found himself in a room he had been in far too many times, and he wasn't surprised to find he wasn't alone in the room, other than the patient. "Any changes?" Lovino asked.

Ludwig looked up from the book he was reading and shook his head. "None at all," the German replied, a bit of frustration evident in his tone. "The doctor previously assigned to this floor recently retired though, and another one was moved down here, so Feliciano's information has all been given to the new one."

Lovino simply nodded, looking at his catatonic brother. Where rosy cheeks once resided, sunken, hallow skin existed over a pale, jutting bone. If it weren't for the heart monitor telling him otherwise, Lovino would have thought his own brother dead. "Hey there Feli," Lovino greeted, his tone a bit softer. "You've been out for a long time now. Think you can wake up? Please? Y-You can't eat any pasta like this. Wake up and I'll fix you all the god damned pasta you can eat." The words had little effect, but that never once stopped Lovino from uttering them. All he had to cling onto now was the hope that Feliciano would wake. He was desperate by this point, and he simply didn't know what he would do without his fratelito.

Going through routine, Lovino sat down in the chair beside Ludwig, resigning himself to watching television. All there was to be done was wait.

Soon, a set of footsteps entered the room, and the unlikely pair turned their heads up to look at who was entering the room. Lovino felt his blood run cold.

"Hola! I'm Dr. Carrie…do…" The alleged doctor paused in his words, faltering a bit as his eyes settled on the pale face of Lovino. "U-Umm…"

Ludwig took notice of this. "Do you two know each other?"

"No!" Lovino replied, much too quickly to be the truth. "I've never seen the bastard before in my life. What is it?" His attention turned back towards Antonio, his voice a bit wary.

Antonio cleared his throat, trying his best to become professional once more. "I was just coming down here to tell the family that due to the previous doctor resigning, I've been assigned to Mr. Vargas," he stated, coughing a bit afterwards.

"Oh…good. You better be one hell of a doctor," Lovino muttered, trying to relax his stiff body back into the chair.

"I assure you that I have all the requirements-" Antonio appeared as though he was going to say more, but something on the monitors caught his eye. Numbers were dropping rapidly, beeps becoming less frequent. The Spaniard's eyes widened. Then, Lovino witnessed a sight he never expected to see. In rapid words he shouted for nurses and doctors to come, and within seconds, alert staff was at the ready. "His vitals are dropping; he's no longer stable," Antonio stated, soon instructing the team on what to do.

Lovino and Ludwig were on their feet, looking frantic for a moment, but soon Lovino grew agitated. "Oi! What the fuck is going on?!" He demanded, to which a nurse grabbed both their arms.

"I'm sorry sirs, but you are going to have to leave," she insisted, shoving them out the door and closing it behind so they couldn't come back in.

"Feli! Feliciano!" Lovino cried, panic coursing through him. He always knew that a thirteen was impossible to roll.


Lovino didn't see Antonio for three weeks after that day; in fact, he didn't work at all for a solid week. Sadiq was human enough to allow him time off to get preparations in order.

After the funeral, however, he was expected to work again, and work he did. Without emotion he pleasured his customers, making them scream his name and experience bliss.

During the day, he stayed in his ratty apartment, closed off from everything. The only motivation he once possessed was now lost to the world. His only reason for working, only reason for making it day through day was now dead, and now he wasn't exactly sure what to do.

He vowed that once all the medical bills were paid off, he would leave the town and never look back. He would do as Ludwig had done and cut ties with everyone and not leave a trace of where he was going. It seemed a decent enough plan. Maybe he could go back to Rome and have that tomato garden he had always dreamed of.

Standing on the corner was nothing unusual for Lovino Vargas.

At nineteen years old, he knew the game of prostitution well. For the past two years he had been rolling the dice, because all the business really came down to was a game of chance. An eight would be rolled, and a woman seeking an affair would be his work for the night; a five and he would have the pleasure of being taken by an aggressive machista with no care for anything but himself, but who was he to be picky? It was work, after all.

But then an idiotic, passionate, beautiful Spaniard had come into his life and showed him something entirely different, something worth fighting for, and as much as he wanted it, he could no longer have it.

On that night, a familiar car rolled up and parked by the curve, and before Lovino could react, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was walking towards him with determination. "Lovi-"

"Don't," Lovino said firmly, cutting him off. "Just don't."

"Please…I tried everything….I used everything I know, I even tried unorthodox methods to save him, but it was impossible. He couldn't be saved," Antoino tried to explain, practically pleading with him.

It was all Lovino had in him to stand and listen to the pleading words, and eventually he erupted. "Shut up! Shut the fucking hell up you idiot! It's your fault he's dead! It's all your fault!" Antonio said nothing, too shocked into silence to do anything more.

"You took away the one thing that mattered to me. You killed my little brother! I never want to see you again!" Lovino continued, his hands balling into fists, his hazel eyes misting over and threatening to fully bawl.

"Lovi…no, please, no" Antonio whispered. For once, the usual sunny Spaniard appeared broken, destroyed. Lovino had no idea the effect he had.

"Leave me alone, dammit. I never want to see you again. You may fuck well, but that's about all you're good for. You'd make one hell of a whore, Antonio," he said scathingly, not really meaning what he said, but he was hurt, and broken, and he needed someone to blame.

Antonio shook his head, appearing as hurt as Lovino. "Please stop! I tried! I tried so hard and I hate myself for not being able to save him, but it happens. The doctor prior to me had to have explained to you what a slim chance of survival your brother had. All his internal organs were failing; he was going to die no matter what anyone did," he tried to explain. "Don't. Don't make me leave you alone," he begged, because right then he was not above such a thing. "Don't you see, Lovino? I've fallen for you, and I've fallen hard. I want to help you with your grief; I want to see you through this, and I want to hold and take care of you. I want to wake up to you every morning cook you breakfast. I want to get you out of this career and help you find something better. I want to help you, I want to love you, please, let me."

All the wind was knocked out of Lovino's lungs at hearing such words slip past Antonio's lips, and he could tell how real they were, how genuine and truthful. He knew, without a doubt, that this is what Antonio wanted, and a larger part of himself wanted this to. Not only did he want this, he craved it, he needed it, but he could not do it. "Don't," Lovino muttered weakly, shaking his head. Taking a step back from Antonio, half his body disappeared from under the glow of the flickering street lamp.

When it seemed Antonio wasn't going to follow, he fully blanketed himself in the darkness of the night and walked away.