#ludfs

[boatland]

[mrtrumpetwrites]

Geritaweek Day 5: Firsts

@geritaweek

Day 5 (Sept 1): Firsts | “It’s okay, let’s just take this slow.”

Rating: E

Word Count: 12855

They had been dating for about a month, now. Italy was so happy when Germany finally admitted his feelings to him. It had taken a while, despite Italy’s very obvious hints, but none of that mattered now, because at last they were together. Things were wonderful. Of course, they still argued, like any other couple, and Germany still got frustrated with Italy’s messiness and laziness, and Italy still got annoyed with Germany’s bossiness and strictness. But together, they were learning how to carve out a life of their own. 

Despite the fact that they had been sleeping in the same bed before they even got together, Germany was still shy with affection. Through some coaxing during late-night evenings of wine and beer, he’d learned that Germany really didn’t have a lot of experience with relationships. He’d only ever been with two girls throughout his life, one when he was young and inexperienced, and another when he was older. Germany hadn’t ever been with any guys, despite the fact that he was obviously gay. Well, that’s what Italy thought, anyway, even though Germany hadn’t admitted it yet. He supposed it made sense, with how repressed the man was. He didn’t speak ill of his former relationships with women, but spoke of them as he would an old friend, not a former lover. Italy got the impression they hadn’t exactly been physical that often, given that Germany said he’d only had sex a few times. Speaking of…  

Today was their one-month anniversary, and Italy was excited. They’d spoken about the progression of their relationship more than a few times, and hadn’t been intimate yet, Germany preferring to take things slow and court Italy, almost traditionally. The man seemed to be a romantic above all else, and didn’t want to rush Italy. He thought it was sweet, but to be honest, Italy was the one struggling not to rush Germany. He just… wanted, so much. It was hard not to, with Germany’s amazing body. More than once, he’d imagined what it would look like, Germany’s blond hair falling out of its perfect, slicked-back state, messily into his sweaty face, what his eyebrows would look like drawn together in pleasured concentration… He wondered if Germany was loud. Probably not, he seemed like the type to try to hold back. Italy would coax that out of him soon enough, though. He knew he seemed innocent and cute, but he was hardly inexperienced. 

Which brought him to another train of thought… of course he didn’t mind Germany topping, which he would most definitely do, repressed as he was, but he couldn’t help but think about, well, the other way ‘round. That would definitely take a while, though, and they’d have to be very comfortable with each other, both in and out of the bedroom. Italy wondered whether Germany would ever actually be okay with it. If he wasn’t, that was alright with him. Still, he thought it would be quite fun to… take care of Germany, like that. He deserved to be made to feel good…

“What are you thinking about, schatzi?” Germany asked, startling Italy out of his horny reverie. “I can practically see the gears in your head turning.”

“Oh, uh, nothing much,” he responded, not wanting to give too much away. “Just thinking about tonight…” He flashed Germany a salacious smile. The other man flushed a bit, which he still did, despite their dating. It was adorable. 

“R—right,” Germany stammered. “Um, about that… are you still okay with it?”

They’d discussed this, before, after much cajoling from Italy. Tonight would finally be the night they joined together, in the flesh, where Italy could show Germany just how much he loved him. 

“Of course, caro! Are you?”

“Ja,” Germany mumbled shyly. 

“Are you sure?” Italy said, knowing it sometimes took a few tries for Germany to admit his true feelings. While he was very much looking forward to it, he didn’t want to pressure the other man into something he wasn’t ready for. 

“I’m sure. I’m just… nervous,” Germany admitted. “I’ve never done this before, with another guy… I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, or anything. Or mess up.”

Italy giggled. “You won’t mess up. And you won’t hurt me. I promise, I’ll tell you if you go too far, okay? I’ll help you with everything.”

Germany nodded, once. “…Alright,” he conceded. He seemed to be a bit less fidgety now, obviously reassured by Italy’s words. 

They were sitting on the couch, Italy lazing about, and Germany reading a book, which he had since closed and laid on the side table. Suddenly, the trill of a cellphone rang throughout the air.

“That must be the restaurant, calling back about our reservations,” Germany said. He sprang up from the couch to swipe his phone from the kitchen counter. “Hello? Ja, it is he.” He listened intently as the person on the other end spoke, their words but incomprehensible babble to Italy from this distance. “Oh, wonderful. Thank you very much. Good day to you as well, madam.” He ended the call, then turned to Italy. “Great news, we got our reservations.”

Italy leapt up, running over to give Germany a hug. “Sìì, I’m so glad! I can’t believe you got us into this place, Germany, usually they’re booked months in advance!”

Germany smiled secretively. “Well, I have my ways.”

Evening had fallen, and a comfortable cool dusk descended upon their world. 

“Are you almost ready, bello?” Italy called to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, smoothing out his clothes. He was wearing a pinstripe suit in a beautiful, velvety red that matched his hair, with a finely tailored, light-blue shirt whose first few buttons hung open, exposing the hollow of his throat and the peep of his collarbones at once modestly and risqué, the perfect blend for Italy. 

“Ja, be right there, schatzi,” Germany responded back. Italy could see him through the doorway, combing the finishing touches through his hair. He was dressed in a deep blue suit, its darkness almost inky black in shade, but royal-hued and vibrant in the light. Italy admired the way the crisp white collar complimented Germany’s strong neck, its cuffs encasing his beautiful wrists, like the frame of an artistic masterpiece. Completing the ensemble was a tie that Italy had bought for Germany once, a silky fabric of velvety black with swirls of color like the ocean edging their way up its material. Germany pulled at the end of it, making sure the tie’s knot was firm and perfect. “Alright, I’m ready.” He stepped out of the bathroom, gleamingly polished dress shoes click-clacking upon the tiles. “Does it look satisfactory?”

Italy clapped his hands together lightly in approval. “You look bellissimo, amore mio! So handsome!” He leaned up to give Germany a sweet, short kiss on the cheek. 

The other man ducked his head, but Italy didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on his face. “Danke. You look magnificent, Italy, as always. That suit really brings out your eyes.”

Italy spun in place, like a ballerina dancer. “You think so? That’s what the tailor said, too.”

“Do I have to worry about this tailor, hm?” Germany chuckled.

“You know you are the only one for me, bello.”

“And you for me.” Germany straightened his shirt cuffs. “Shall we?” He offered his arm to Italy, who giggled slightly at the formality of it, alone as they were in their bedroom. Still, of course, he took the proffered arm, and together they walked out and into the driveway, where Germany’s car was parked. 

They talked about unimportant little things as they drove. Italy pointed to a flock of birds flying overhead in their V-shape. “I wonder what kind of birds are those!”

Germany peered up, then quickly glanced back at the road. “They’re too high up to tell.”

The drive was forty minutes. Normally they would never go out this far for a restaurant, but this was a special occasion, after all. A song that Italy knew came on the radio, and he turned it up to sing along, bouncing slightly in his seat to the rhythm. Germany glanced over at him with a fond smile. 

Finally, they reached the place, and Germany pulled into the parking lot specially designated for the restaurant. They were surrounded by gleaming, fancy cars, evidence of the gleaming, fancy folk who usually dined here. The more expensive a restaurant doesn’t necessarily mean the better the dining, but this was one was renowned for its food and atmosphere for many kilometers around. Italy had wanted to go to this place for a long time, even before he and Germany had started dating. Once Germany had learned of this, he’d tried for ages to get them a reservation here, and to Italy’s delight, they had finally managed to land one. And on today, of all days! What a perfect coincidence. 

Germany offered Italy his arm once again, the crook of which Italy gladly nestled his hand in. Germany was very shy about PDA, so Italy leapt at the chance to indulge in it whenever Germany allowed him. Together they walked up to the elaborate doors, which Germany opened for them. 

“Good evening, sirs,” the maître d’ greeted. 

“Good evening,” Italy chimed, with Germany nodding his head in concurrence. 

“Names, please?”

“Two for Beilschmidt.”

The man perused his book of reservations, following the list of names with his finger. “Ah, there it is. Follow me, sirs.” He grabbed a couple of fancy, leather-bound menus and led them to their table. It was beautifully set, with a pristine white tablecloth and two tall, white candles in elaborately carved silver holders. The candles bookended a small bouquet of alluring roses, clad with deep, vibrant red. 

Germany pulled out Italy’s chair for him, then sat down himself. With a flourish, the maître d’ laid the two menus in front of them. “Your server will be right over. Please let any of us know if there is anything else you need.”

“Thank you,” Germany said. The man nodded and disappeared, weaving through tables and waiters carrying plates of delicious-looking food. 

“What shall we have for aperitif?” Italy asked, perusing the drink menu. 

“Hmm, why don’t you pick? You’re better at this sort of thing.”

Italy nodded, eyes landing on one entry in the list. “How about a nice Cava?”

“Sounds great.” Germany smiled at him. 

Shortly thereafter, their waitress appeared at the table, beaming at them. “Good evening, sirs. Can I start you with anything to drink?”

“Some water for the table, please,” Germany said. “And…?” He nodded at Italy.

“Two glasses of the Cava, as well.” 

“Right away, sirs.” She swirled away, her server’s apron swishing about her.

“Ooh, this looks good,” Italy said, looking at the food menu now. “This steak entrecôte.”

“Where is that?”

“It’s the third one under the meat entrees.”

“Ah, I see it. Hmm, that does look good…” Germany mused. “This beef bourguignon also looks good, though.”

“Is that what you want?”

Germany looked carefully at the rest of the menu, then nodded. “Everything sounds great, here, but I think I’ll go with that.”

“Perfect, I’ll choose the steak. Then we can share a bottle of red.”

“Why don’t you pick? I have no understanding of that sort of thing.”

“Well, it’s a French restaurant, so they will have French wines. The best years for French reds are 2014, 2016, and 2018. 2019 also, but you should avoid 2017,” Italy said, shaking his head. “2017 was not a good year for French wines.”

“What about white wine?” Germany asked curiously.

“Years don’t matter as much for those. It’s harder to find a bad white wine than a red.”

“Ah, I see. How do you learn such things?”

Italy tapped his forehead knowledgeably. “Experience.”

“So, drinking a lot,” Germany chuckled.

“Not necessarily. A fine red is made for enjoyment, not for getting drunk.”

“Of course.”

Italy scrutinized the wine list. “This looks good.” He pointed at one of the wines, flipping the menu around for Germany to see. “This Château Perron Graves, from 2014. 2014 is the best year, in my opinion, but it can be harder to find these days.”

Germany nodded, not really understanding. “I trust whatever you say.”

Beaming back, Italy said, “Aw, you’re so sweet.”

By this time, the waitress had brought their Cavas and waters. As they sipped their sparkling aperitifs, they chatted back and forth about wines a bit longer. Italy explained more about different wine regions.

“Did you know, in the 1800s, almost all of the French vineyards were destroyed?” Italy said. “There was some sort of pest that destroyed the grapes.”

“Oh, really?” Germany steepled his fingers, looking inquisitively at Italy. “How did they save the vineyards?”

“A lot of them grafted their vines to American ones which had been brought over, that were resistant to the pest.”

“So a lot of the French wines are actually from the U.S., then?”

“Exactly! I think it was known as the ‘reconstitution’, or something like that.”

“What was, the destruction of the vines?”

“No, the recovery of them.”

They fell silent as the waitress came by to collect their empty glasses. “Are you ready to order, sirs?”

“For me, the entrecôte, please. Medium-rare.”

“And for me, the beef bourguignon.”

“And then a bottle of the Perron Graves, please,” Italy finished.

She nodded, not bothering to write it down. At restaurants like these, the servers were trained to keep everything in their heads. “It will be out momentarily, sirs.” They nodded at her, and she bowed her head slightly, then walked away.

Germany continued, “I had no idea. The impression I got from French wines, was that they were many centuries old.”

Italy shook his head. “Unfortunately, not.” He adopted a mock-tearful expression. “Think of how many good wines were lost…”

Germany chuckled. “At least they were able to save the wine industry in the end.”

“Grazie Dio!” 

“Did that happen to any other countries? The destruction of the vines?” Germany asked.

“No, just the French. Luckily, Italian vineyards weren’t destroyed like that. But…” He lowered his voice secretively. “Don’t tell my brother this, he would disown me. I prefer French wines over Italian.”

Germany put his hand to his chest in parodied consternation. “Heresy!”

They both giggled, then abruptly stopped, as the waitress came by their table once again. Germany adopted a sheepish expression. She looked at them with amusement. “L’entrecôte, for monsieur over here.” She delicately placed the elegantly plated steak with roasted vegetables in front of Italy. “And for monsieur, the bourguignon.” Germany admired the pretty bowl in which his French stew lay, its scalloped edges and delicate floral detailing along the outside. 

She set their two wine glasses in front of them, graceful stems flowing into a large, tapered bowl. Then she presented the wine bottle to Italy, who nodded. She produced a wine opener from one of her apron’s pockets, expertly twisting off the cork, and pouring a small amount into Italy’s glass. He took a delicate sip, and smiled at the waitress. “It’s perfect, thank you.” She inclined her head in agreement, and filled up Germany’s glass, then topped off Italy’s.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sirs?”

Italy looked at Germany, who shook his head. “That will be all, thank you very much.”

“Enjoy your meal.”

As she walked away, Germany smiled at Italy over the rim of his wine glass. “How is it?”

“Delicious, give it a try.”

The other man picked up the glass, its dainty stem incongruous with his large, strong hands. He took a sniff first, then a small sip, and his eyebrows raised in pleased surprise. “Oh, wow, it’s amazing.”

“I know how to pick ‘em, eh?” Italy ribbed.

“You sure do.”

“Wow, this looks delicious!” Italy said, admiring his steak. The aroma coming off it was inviting, the smell of perfectly done fine meat. He carefully cut off a small piece and popped it in his mouth. “Mmm, it tastes even better than it looks!”

Germany set down his wine and picked up a spoon, its elegant, silver handle flashing in the candlelight. He ladled some of the bourguignon in his mouth. “This is delicious, too.”

Italy smiled at Germany, his mouth still too full to respond. They didn’t say much, then, happily digging into their flavorsome meals. The only sound was the clink of their cutlery, and the quiet murmur of conversations around them. Their table was set a little ways apart, under a refined-looking lamp that cast a dim, cozy glow over them. It afforded them a bit more privacy, which Germany was glad for. 

“How are the vegetables?” Germany asked. “Also good?”

“They are perfect!” Italy said, putting some into his mouth.

Gradually, they slowed down as their bellies filled up with the luscious food. 

“Ohh, I’m so full…” Italy said, patting his tummy. 

Germany raised an eyebrow. “Not too full for dessert, I hope?”

“Of course not, never!” Italy responded indignantly, to which Germany gave a huff of amusement. 

The waitress came by again to collect their empty plates, and to top off their wine glasses from the ever-dwindling bottle. “Would either of you be interested in dessert, sirs?” 

“Can we see the menu?” Italy asked.

“Ah,” she glanced at Germany, very briefly, but Italy still noticed. “For you monsieurs today, there is a special dessert.”

Italy looked quizzically at Germany. “Special…?”

Germany worried his bottom lip between his teeth, bashful. “Um, well, when I called to make the reservations, I said this would be a special occasion… They offered us a unique, handmade dessert, on the house. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

At this, Italy threw a wide grin in Germany’s direction. “You did that for us? Oh, how sweet!”

“Will that be alright…?” Germany asked nervously.

“Of course! I can’t wait to see it.”

Germany nodded then at the waitress, who smiled and said, “It will be out shortly,” and swished away again. 

Italy gazed adoringly at his partner across the table, his curled hands under his chin. “I can’t believe this, how amazing!”

Ducking his head shyly, Germany said, “I just hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Shortly thereafter, the waitress reappeared, bearing an ornate silver tray. On it, there was a large slice of tiramisu, drizzled with chocolate syrup in ostentatious loops, the apexes of which were crowned intricately with clusters of raspberries and strawberries. A few mint leaves at the corners of the tray completed the ensemble. 

“Ohh, how exquisite!” Italy exclaimed.

“This is specially made by our in-house dessert chef,” the waitress explained. “I hope you enjoy it, sirs.”

Once she walked away, Germany conspiratorially whispered, “They only make this for special guests, like royalty or celebrities who come.”

“Wow, how did you get them to make it for us?”

Germany shrugged nonchalantly. “I emphasized that it was a special day.”

Eyeing the dessert excitedly, Italy said, “I can’t wait to try it.” 

“Why don’t you have the first bite?”

Italy beamed at Germany, then picked up his small dessert fork, and carefully sliced off a corner of the cake. He slipped it in his mouth, and closed his eyes to savor the taste. It was a perfect tiramisu. Not too heavy, the ideal lightness, it melted creamily in his mouth, the layers of chocolate complementing each other and melding into a world of flavor.

“Mmm… it’s so good!” He couldn’t help but take himself another bite. “Sorry,” he giggled. “You go ahead, Germany.”

Obliging happily, Germany took a small forkful of cake for himself. His eyebrows drew together as he let the chocolate swirl in his mouth. “Oh, wow…”

“This is the best tiramisu I’ve ever eaten in my life. And that’s saying a lot,” Italy said. “Seems almost unfair that a French restaurant makes the best Italian dessert!”

“I heard the dessert chef is Italian, apparently.” Germany speared one of the raspberries on his fork, popping it into his mouth. 

“This is perfect, Germany. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, schatzi.” 

They smiled dopily at each other, and continued to eat their godly dessert. Italy was actually sad when it was over, knowing any other tiramisu he’d eat from then on would never be able to compare. 

When they had finished, Germany sipped some water, clearing his palate for the last of the red wine. He poured out the rest of the bottle, making sure to give Italy more. 

“Oh, come on, don’t be stingy! Have some more,” Italy offered. 

“I have to drive, remember.”

“Oh, right.” He smiled apologetically.

“It’s alright. I had enough of the wine to know that it’s very good,” Germany smiled.

They leaned back in their chairs, satisfied at a meal well-done. Quietly, they chatted about all sorts of things. Germany flagged down the waitress to ask for the check, which she brought.

“It’s for me, by the way,” Germany said.

“Oh, Germany, no! Let me at least pay for some of it.”

“Nein.” He shook his head. “I invited you out.”

“Fine.” Italy pouted. “But next anniversary dinner, I’m paying!”

Germany gave him a serious look. “Next anniversary…?”

“Eh??”

The other man couldn’t keep up his charade, and smiled broadly, Germany’s equivalent of bursting out into laughter. “I’m just teasing you. Of course you can.”

Italy held a hand to his chest. “You scared me for a second there!”

Germany pulled out his card, laying it in the leather-bound receipt-book, and handed it to the waitress who came by to collect it. When she returned, he signed it.

She took it back again, eyes scanning the tip section, and her eyebrows raised. “Oh, thank you, monsieur,” she bowed her head slightly in Germany’s direction.

“Thank you, the service was excellent,” he replied modestly.

“I wish you two a very pleasant rest of your evening.”

“You as well!” Italy responded cheerfully. 

Germany scooted back from the table, rising in his chair. “Shall we?”

Italy nodded. Arm in arm, they walked back to the car. Italy sighed happily, taking in the cool night air. “I had a wonderful time. Grazie, Germany.”

“Me too.” Germany smiled at him. 

They drove home in comfortable silence, content to listen to the soft crooning of the radio. Italy noticed that Germany’s relaxed state became more fidgety as they approached the familiar streets of their neighborhood. He didn’t have to second-guess why. 

He laid a reassuring hand on Germany’s arm. “You know, we don’t have to if—”

Germany shook his head. “It’s alright. I’m just nervous about these things. But I want to.”

Italy smiled softly at him. They pulled into their driveway, the automatic outdoor lights clicking on to welcome them home. Slowly, they ambled into the house, reminiscing about the tiramisu. 

“It was so good…” Italy said. 

“I know, it was truly amazing.”

“I won’t be able to get that tiramisu out of my mind for the rest of my life!”

Germany chuckled. “Well, hopefully, we can go back.”

“Maybe you can get the name of that dessert chef!”

“That’d be a good idea.”

Germany halted in the hallway, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Um, so…”

Deciding to take the lead for Germany’s sake, Italy took hold of his hand. “Let’s go. If you’re ready,” he said, smiling softly.

Germany nodded, once. He let himself be led by the hand to the bedroom, where Italy drew the curtains. Italy turned around to see Germany had already hung up his suit jacket, and was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, let me!” he said. “That suit really looks so good on you. It brings out your eyes.”

“You think?” Germany said shyly.

“Si.” Italy’s nimble fingers began making quick work of the buttons on Germany’s dress shirt. As if emboldened by Italy’s actions, Germany helped Italy slide out of his own suit jacket, and started unbuttoning the other’s light blue shirt. Italy couldn’t help but notice that Germany’s hands were shaking slightly. 

Trying to reassure Germany, Italy stood up on his tiptoes to kiss the other, and instead of pulling away when they had unbuttoned each other’s shirts, he simply let the smooth cloth fall from his body, wrapped his arms around Germany, and deepened the kiss. 

Intertwined, Germany stepped them backwards, until they fell onto the bed. He seemed more at ease now, kissing Italy, which they had done many times before. Italy undid Germany’s belt, sliding his hands under the waistband and squeezing Germany’s ass.

“Mmph!” the other exclaimed, muffled through Italy’s tongue in his mouth. He could feel Germany’s lips stretch into a slight smile, and Italy smiled back. Finally, he pulled away, to catch some breath, and to undo his own belt and shoes. Germany stood back up to do the same, then shimmied out of his pants, folding them neatly over a nearby chair. He pulled inquisitively at the ends of Italy’s pants, and Italy leaned back against the bed, allowing Germany to take them off. Similarly, Germany folded Italy’s pants and laid them over his own on the chair. His movements measured, he crawled onto the bed, his knees on either side of Italy’s thighs. Slowly, he kissed down Italy’s neck, who shivered and made a slight breathy noise. 

“You know, I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time,” Italy sighed dreamily.

“Have you?” Germany said, tugging at Italy’s underwear. The latter let himself fall back against the bed, allowing Germany to drag his underwear down. Germany sat up and took off his own underwear, then laid down against Italy on the bed, large hands trailing up and down his sides.

They continued kissing, tongues sliding against each other, their breaths growing hotter and heavier. Italy could feel the urgent insistence of Germany’s hardness against his leg, and he ground against it, hearing Germany’s breath harshen in his ear. 

“Germany—” he began.

“Please,” the other panted. “Call me Ludwig.”

Italy’s eyes widened in surprise. Though many of the nations knew each other’s personal names, it was something that was very private to them, only used when the nations wanted to conceal their identities, or among, for example, very close friends or lovers of many years. 

He smiled, glad that Germany—Ludwig—was trusting him already with such an intimate thing. 

“Ludwig,” he breathed out, feeling the man shudder against him. “You can call me Feliciano.”

“Feliciano,” Ludwig said, kissing him all over. “Feliciano,” he repeated, caressing his body. 

“Please,” Feliciano said, aching with want. “I need you.”

Ger—Ludwig swallowed audibly, then leaned over to open the nightstand which they’d pre-stocked. He carefully picked up the bottle of lube. They had no need for condoms, having both gotten tested already. Ludwig uncapped it, hands shaking slightly, and smeared some on his fingers. He placed it delicately on the nightstand, then leaned over Feliciano, one hand supporting his weight.

“Are you ready?” he exhaled. 

Feliciano nodded, the pit of his stomach thrumming with anticipation. “Go slowly,” he instructed. “Start with one finger, and if I say it’s alright, you can keep adding them one by one.”

Ludwig bobbed his head in understanding, drawing a shaky breath, and slowly circled his finger around the rim of Feliciano’s entrance. He was being hesitant for Feliciano’s sake, but to the latter, the feeling was just excruciatingly teasing.

“Please,” he whined, wrapping his arms around Ludwig’s neck. “I’m ready.”

Slowly, with some effort, Ludwig pushed his finger in, wiggling it a little to get past the tight entrance. Feliciano bit his lip at the foreign sensation; it’s not that he was unused to it, it just always felt a little strange at first to have something entering his body. Ludwig’s finger popped past his tight ring of muscle, then sunk deeper, deeper, always slow, always gentle. Feliciano looked up at him, wide-eyed gaze a little hazy. 

“That’s good, amore mio. Just like that.” He pulled Ludwig closer. “Lay with me.”

The other man obliged, positioning himself so he could lay on Feliciano’s side, his other arm folded underneath him. He leaned over to kiss Feliciano again, his tongue slipping inside and lapping at Feliciano’s teeth, as if he were counting each of them. He leisurely drew his finger in and out, pausing when Feliciano inhaled sharply.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, brows creasing in worry.

“No, no, it’s just that right—” Ludwig pushed in again, brushing against his sweet spot. “—there. Oh, yes, Ludwig. Right there, just like that.” He could feel Ludwig’s cock twitch against his thigh when he moaned out the other man’s name, so he decided to try it again. “Mm, Ludwig, it feels so good. Don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t,” the other man promised, voice shaky. 

“I’m ready for another.”

Ludwig withdrew his finger, leaving Feliciano feeling strangely empty. He could feel his hole flutter at the removal, and Ludwig stared at it, his mouth slightly open. He then leaned over Feliciano to grab the lube off the nightstand, and poured some more over his fingers. Feliciano was a bit impatient, but he knew that taking it slowly was just as, if not even more, important to Ludwig as it was to him. 

Still, he couldn’t help but keep the whine out of his voice when he said, “Please.”

Ludwig sucked his lip between his teeth, staring at Feliciano with bright, wide eyes. His finger teased at Feliciano’s hole again, now slicker with lube, and this time it accepted the digit more readily. Once inside, Ludwig prodded at his entrance with another finger, pushing it in. His big, long fingers brushed against Feliciano’s sweet spot once again, sending a jolt of pure heat deep into his stomach.

“Ah!” he moaned.

“Does it really feel that good?” Ludwig asked. 

“S—si,” he responded, tempted to say, ‘you should try it’. But that would perhaps be too much, right here, right now. Maybe he’d bring it up another time. “You’re doing so well,” he praised.

Ludwig flushed at this. “I’m barely doing anything.”

“You’re making me feel good.” Feliciano smiled dazedly up at him. “Keep going, per favore.”

The other obliged, pushing his fingers slowly in and out.

“You can—ah—crook your fingers and spread them a little sometimes. Like this,” Feliciano demonstrated with two of his own fingers. Ludwig nodded and bent his fingers, brushing them against Feliciano’s prostate. “Mmngh, si, si, Ludwig…!” It felt much more intense than other times he’d done this, despite them barely having gotten started. It must be because it was with Ludwig. Everything felt so, so intimate, so monumental, the enormity of each minute movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

“It feels good right there, huh?” Ludwig asked, staring at Feliciano intently. 

“Mmhmm,” Feliciano nodded. He brushed a hand lovingly through Ludwig’s hair, disturbing his slicked-back bangs and letting a few strands of hair fall down onto his forehead. He looked so perfect, so handsome.

Ludwig scissored his fingers, seeming to marvel at probing the soft, wet heat inside Feliciano. He drew in and out again, taking special care to rub against the spot that made Feliciano’s toes curl. 

“Hnng, more Ludwig, please. Another finger,” he whimpered.

“Are you sure?”

Feliciano glanced down, relishing the sight of Ludwig’s big, hard cock, standing at attention against his leg. “I’m going to need it.”

Ludwig followed his gaze, then flushed, understanding what Feliciano was saying. He smeared some more lube on his fingers, then pushed back in, adding a third. It slipped in more easily than the first two, Feliciano having been opened up a bit by now. 

Feliciano let his legs fall open, allowing Ludwig easier access. He clutched at the pillow, the sheets, Ludwig’s arms. He let himself voice his pleasure, knowing it would bolster Ludwig’s confidence. 

“Mmm, harder, faster, please,” he moaned. Ludwig was compelled to obey, enraptured as he was by Feliciano’s body, wound up so tight, just for him. He fingered Feliciano more, capturing the other’s lips in an occasional kiss. It felt even better when they were making out, when Ludwig would thrust in, and Feliciano could groan into Ludwig’s mouth. God, he couldn’t wait until he had Ludwig’s cock inside of him. It would feel amazing. 

Eventually, he felt that he was opened up enough, and he said, “I’m ready, Ludwig.”

The other man swallowed. “You sure?” he said, voice cracking on the dryness of his throat. 

“I’m sure.” Feliciano smiled sweetly up at him. “I’ve never been more ready for you.”

Ludwig let out a rush of breath at that. He grabbed the bottle of lube again, pouring some onto the palm of his hand. He tilted his head back and sighed when he finally touched his cock, neglected as it had been during his ministrations to Feliciano. 

“Make sure to get it nice and wet,” Feliciano said. Ludwig nodded, unable to speak, mesmerized by Feliciano. He crawled up on all fours, framing Feliciano’s body with his own. Feliciano wrapped his legs around Ludwig’s hips, angling his body perfectly for him. 

“Please, please, angelo,” he begged. “I want you, I need you.”

Ludwig lined up his cock with Feliciano’s entrance, pushing inside. Despite his preparations, it was still a tight fit, and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his teeth worrying his lower lip. Finally, he managed to push inside, just the head of his cock, and Feliciano’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ at the intensity of the feeling. 

“Is it alright?” he asked shakily.

“Give me a moment,” Feliciano breathed out. He relaxed his body, trying to adjust. After a few moments, he nodded. “Keep going. Slowly.”

Inch by careful inch, Ludwig pushed inside, so painfully slowly, his teeth gritting. “You feel…” He swallowed. “You’re so tight… you feel amazing.” He ducked his head to kiss the side of Feliciano’s neck. “So perfect, nur für mich…” he murmured. 

“Just for you,” Feliciano whispered back, knowing enough German by now to translate what Ludwig was saying.

Finally, blessedly, Ludwig was completely inside, his hips flush with the backs of Feliciano’s thighs. Feliciano couldn’t help but throw his head back at the impossibly full feeling, his eyes fluttering. 

“It’s not too much? You’re alright?” Ludwig asked.

Feliciano nodded dreamily. “It feels good. Just, give me a moment.”

“Anything,” Ludwig said. “Anything for you, meine liebe.”

Wrapping his arms tightly around Ludwig’s shoulders, he pulled him close. They kissed again, hot, wet lips and tongues sliding against each other. When Ludwig pulled away, a strand of saliva connected them for a second, before it broke out of existence. 

Feliciano dipped his head, signaling for Ludwig to go further. Just as achingly slowly as he’d pushed in, Ludwig withdrew again, not wanting to hurt Feliciano, but having the unwitting effect of letting the man acutely feel every inch of his cock as it slid through him. 

“Oh, cazzo,” he moaned. “Feels so good…”

“So do you,” Ludwig panted, his body trembling. He started up a slow rhythm, gently sinking into Feliciano’s tight, wet heat, then pulling out again. 

“Più, more,” he begged. “Faster, please.”

Ludwig snapped his hips forward, tearing a loud, wanton moan from Feliciano’s lips. Then he did it again, and again. 

“Aah—oh—cazzo—si, si!” he wailed loudly, clutching at Ludwig’s shoulders.

Ludwig buried himself, over and over, sinking in so impossibly deeply, his blunt cockhead hitting against the spot that made pleasure rush through him, warming every part of his body. The bed creaked, increasingly louder as Ludwig’s thrusts grew harsher, but it was still drowned out by Feliciano’s cries.

“Yesss, Ludwig, just like—oh—ah—si, just like that, per favore, non fermarti, ti senti così bene..!” he babbled, barely aware of the words being torn, unbidden, from his throat.

Ludwig moved his arms to pin Feliciano’s wrists to the bed, leaning in close. “So gut,” he panted. “So gut, für mich, nur für mich, meine, Feliciano, oh Feliciano,” he repeated, prayer-like.

“Io sono tua,” Feliciano prayed back. “I am yours.”

Suddenly, Ludwig pulled out, leaving Feliciano whining at the loss, and scrambled off the bed, then grabbed Feliciano by the ankles and pulled him down. Feliciano let himself be man-handled—it was hot—into a position where he was sideways across the bed, his ass half-hanging off the edge, with Ludwig standing in front of him. The latter grabbed Feliciano’s legs, positioning them on his shoulders, and kissed one of his calves. Then he slammed back in again, and Feliciano screamed. 

“Ludwig! Oh, fuck! Oh, Dio mio!” It felt, somehow, even better at this angle, Ludwig’s thrusts hitting his sweet spot over and over. The pressure built deep in Feliciano’s belly, impossible heat swirling around. His hands clenched at the sheets, pulling them from where they had been tucked underneath the mattress. His back arched off the bed, his legs trembling on Ludwig’s shoulders, threatening to slip if it were not for Ludwig’s tight grasp on his ankles. His head lolled from side to side, eyes rolling back in his head. “Così buono… non fermarti, don’t stop, please!”

“Never,” Ludwig groaned. His hips snapped forward, over and over, pushing the bed to one side with the ferocity of his thrusts.  

Feliciano’s hair spilled out onto the sheets like an oil slick. “Favore, per favore, non smettere di fottermi così, sei così buono, è così buono,” he babbled, in-between the ‘ah’s and ‘oh’s that he couldn’t stop escaping his lips. 

With some difficulty, Ludwig bent forward, so he could rest his forehead on Feliciano’s. “Ich liebe dich,” he whispered, barely audible over the wild creaking of the bed.

Feliciano heard him, though, and answered back, “Anch'io ti amo,” I love you too. 

The slap of skin on skin, Feliciano’s fevered cries, Ludwig’s panting, ragged breathing, all a symphonic cacophony, crescendoing, until Feliciano felt the tightness deep in his belly about to snap. 

“Ludwig, Ludwig, ah, si, I’m going to—” His mouth hung open as he wailed, come spurting from his cock and landing on his stomach. Ludwig kept fucking him, and he whimpered at the intense sensation of his fucked-out hole, pounded into again and again. 

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Ludwig growled. He grabbed Feliciano’s hips and flipped him around, so his feet were on the floor, stomach on the bed, with his ass in the air. Mercifully, he gave Feliciano some slight reprieve, while he lubed up his cock again. Then he slid in smoothly once more, with a wet squelch. Feliciano whimpered loudly, helplessly, overstimulated, tears springing to his eyes. It was too much, all too much, he’d just come, and Ludwig showed no intention of letting up. And he loved it. 

“Please!” he moaned, unsure of what he was pleading for. His head slumped forward onto the mattress, burying his face into it and clutching the sheets for dear life. He felt Ludwig grab a fistful of his hair and pull it, still not too harshly, Ludwig still careful not to hurt him. “Oh, cazzo, yes! Like that!”

“You like it when I’m rough with you?” Ludwig said, his voice coarse and deep. 

“Si,” Feliciano cried. “Use me, per favore, I belong to you!”

“Ohh, fuck,” Ludwig groaned, and thrust in harshly. He’d been rather possessive from the start of their relationship, and appealing to that possessiveness only seemed to drive him even crazier. He leaned forward, latching his lips onto a patch of Feliciano’s neck, and lightly grazed his teeth. 

“Hnng, harder,” Feliciano begged.

“Fuck you harder or bite you harder?”

“Both!”

Ludwig obliged, biting down more harshly with his teeth, at which Feliciano yelped. He grabbed Feliciano’s hips with his hands, using it as leverage to pound him roughly. Every thrust against his overstimulated prostrate made tears spring to Feliciano’s eyes, and he grabbed fistfuls of the sheets and blanket, desperately trying to ground himself from the intense, dizzying sensation of being absolutely and completely fucked senseless. His head felt light, and there was only Ludwig, inside him, on top of him, around him, everywhere. 

“Hahhh,” he moaned, unable now to form proper sentences. “Si, si… oh, cazzo… amore mio…”

Ludwig’s thrusts grew irregular, his breath ragged. “Feli,” he panted. “I’m close.”

“Wait—ah—turn me—oh—I want to see your face when—mmh!—you come.”

Ludwig pulled out, letting Feliciano turn around, dazedly. As soon as he had, Ludwig grabbed his hips again and slid in, making Feliciano wail, the perfection of it. 

“Hnng,” he moaned, putting his fist to his mouth. “Ludwig—ah!” His words turned into a cry as Ludwig began pounding him again, stuttering, harshly. 

“Mein Gott,” Ludwig said. “You’re so perfect.”

“Come for me,” Feliciano breathed out, and with a strangled groan, Ludwig thrust in one last time. Feliciano could feel his cock pulsing inside, and the other collapsed on top of him, Feliciano’s legs still on top of his shoulders. 

They laid there, intertwined, panting, their bodies stuck together with sweat. Feliciano’s legs began aching from the awkward position they were in, and he made a small noise of discomfort.

“Sorry, sorry.” Ludwig pushed himself up on his arms, a drop of sweat beading down his face and onto Feliciano’s chest. He disentangled himself from Feliciano, then flopped over next to him to continue catching his breath. The air was heavy. “…Was that okay?”

“Well,” Feliciano wiggled. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow.” He winked at Ludwig. “But that’s alright.”

“Oh.” Ludwig’s brows furrowed. “Sorry.”

“No, no! That’s not a bad thing.” Feliciano turned onto his side to face Ludwig. “It was amazing, Luddy.”

“Good.” Ludwig smiled softly, then wiped some sweat from his forehead. “…Shall we take a shower?”

“Oh no, I’m not ready for round two.”

Ludwig laughed. “Trust me, neither am I. Just a shower, I promise.”

Feliciano looked down at the sticky come covering his stomach. “That does sound good, actually.”

“Alright.” With a satisfied sigh, Ludwig pushed himself off the bed, then extended a hand to Feliciano. “Let’s go.”

Feliciano took his hand, happy to follow him anywhere.

----

They had been dating for about a year, now. Feliciano was so happy when Ludwig finally proposed to him. It had taken a while, and Feliciano pretended to remain oblivious, despite Ludwig’s very obvious hints, like asking if he perhaps wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Things were wonderful. Of course, they still argued, like any other couple, and Ludwig still got frustrated with Feliciano’s disorderliness and leisureliness, and Feliciano still got annoyed with Ludwig’s overbearingness and harshness. But together, they had learned how to carve out a life of their own. 

There was maybe just one thing they hadn’t explored together, and Feliciano really wanted to try. Of course, if Ludwig was totally against it, he wouldn’t push it. But, he’d carefully toed the boundaries, trying to see if perhaps Ludwig was open to it. After that first time they’d been in bed together, they’d had many more fun times, and not always with Ludwig totally commanding the bedroom. Sure, he’d always technically topped, but Feliciano definitely took the reins now and again. 

He thought, maybe, it was finally time. 

They were reading together on the couch late one afternoon, in the house they’d bought together. Not Feliciano’s or Ludwig’s house, but their house. Feliciano kept glancing up from the top of his book, over at Ludwig, who was intently reading one of his romance novels. 

Finally, Ludwig sighed, closed his book, and took off his glasses. “What is it, Feli?”

“Oh!” Feliciano squeaked, not realizing his furtive glimpses had been noticed. “Well, um..” He nervously twirled a strand of his hair. “There was something I wanted to talk about with you.”

At this, Ludwig cocked an eyebrow inquisitively, and put a bookmark in his book, placing the novel on the side table. “What is it?”

Feliciano was unsure how to begin broaching a topic like this. He decided there was no better way than to just dive in headfirst. “I was wondering if I could top you.”

Ludwig opened his mouth as if to say something, but then did not continue. He stared at Feliciano, mouth gaping open. 

“…Luddy?”

The other man opened and closed his mouth a few times, and Feliciano had to hold back a giggle; he looked like a fish. Finally, he found his words. “…Where does this come from?” Then he frowned slightly. “Have I… not been satisfying you enough?”

At this, Feliciano quickly waved his hands in a placating manner. “Oh no, Luddy, not at all! Definitely not! You’re wonderful, trust me, amazing. You give me exactly what I need.” At Ludwig’s doubtful look, he continued, “Trust me, really.”

“Then why?”

“Well… I’ve just been thinking about it, for some time. It’s something I’ve wanted to try.”

“…Why?”

How to answer such a question? “I… I just think it would be fun.”

“Fun?”

“You know, to take care of you like that. Make you feel good. The way you make me feel.”

Ludwig’s eyebrows creased pensively. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Not a bad start. At least, he didn’t immediately brush off the notion as ridiculous, like Feliciano had worried he might. “What do you think of it?”

“Well, I… I’ll have to think about it a little bit.”

“Of course, take as much time as you need. And,” Feliciano held up a finger. “If you realize that you don’t want to, then we don’t have to.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it.”

“It’s just a thought, bello. I would still be perfectly happy with you if you topped me for the rest of our lives. Trust me,” he giggled. “More than perfectly happy.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Ludwig asked after a few heavy moments of silence.

“Of course.”

“How does it feel?”

“Hm…” Feliciano tapped a finger against his chin in thought. “I’ll admit, it feels a little weird at first. Almost like, well, like you have to poop. But then, it feels really good. Really, very good. If the other person is good at it, that is. And trust me,” he waggled his eyebrows. “I am very good.”

Ludwig snorted. “We’ll have to see about that.” Then, his eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. “Um, if we do it.”

Feliciano suppressed a smile. “Just think about it, Luddy. And remember… there’s absolutely no pressure. I wouldn’t like it if you felt like you were forced to do it.”

Ludwig nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

----

It had been a few weeks since Feliciano’s proposition. He’d caught Ludwig staring at him sometimes, a contemplative look on his face. Whenever caught, the man would startle and apologize, averting his gaze shiftily. 

It was a rainy morning, over breakfast. Feliciano was busy stuffing eggs into his mouth, used to Ludwig’s pensive silences. He was always like this, even before Feliciano’s suggestion. So he was caught by surprise when Ludwig said, “I think I’m ready.”

He stared at the other man, egg on a fork halfway to his mouth. “…Ready for what?”

“Oh Gott, don’t make me say it.”

“Oh!” Feliciano’s eyes widened in understanding. “For me to top you?”

Ludwig flushed. “Ja.”

He laid his fork down, putting his hands together in excitement. “Oh, Luddy, I’m so glad! I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise. And I’ll be super gentle. When did you want to try?”

Looking down at his plate, Ludwig mumbled something.

“What was that?” Feliciano said.

“…Um, maybe, tonight? If you… you wanted to?”

“Only if you really think you’re ready.”

“I’m nervous, of course, but… I’m ready.”

Feliciano smiled reassuringly. “You can be open with me, amore. What are you nervous about?”

Ludwig worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “I know you said you would be gentle, but… you know, well, of course you know, that I’ve never done this before. I��m just worried that it’ll hurt, or, I don’t know, I’ll mess up, or not do something right, or—”

“Luddy.” Feliciano held up a hand. “It’s sex, not a competition. There’s no possible way to mess this up. And I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt. You can trust me, okay? We’ll go really slow.”

Ludwig nodded. Feliciano got the feeling that there was more. “What else are you nervous about?”

“Um,” Ludwig began. He was staring resolutely down at his plate. “You know how I told you a little bit about… uh, my… orientation?” He winced slightly even as he said the word. “And how I repressed it for a long time?”

“Si,” Feliciano said softly, waiting for Ludwig to continue. When he began, like this, it often took a long time for him to explain himself fully, so Feliciano knew to give him time. 

“Well, I had… a lot of issues. With accepting it.” Ludwig twirled his fork idly on the plate. “Still do.”

Feliciano reached out and gently took Ludwig’s other hand, laying on the table. He smiled softly when the man glanced up at him at the action. 

“I just…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I was raised to be a good soldier. A strong man.” He looked briefly at Feliciano. “Not that… uh, my—um, being g-gay isn’t—doesn’t mean you can’t be strong. But, you know,” he said, looking down again at his plate. “You know how it is.”

“Yes, I know,” Feliciano agreed, voice kind.

“And… there was a lot of pressure, all around me. I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to disappoint my brother.” At this, Ludwig sighed, and gazed out the window. He seemed to be reminiscing. “Not that… well, he’s not against it. I know that now. But I was afraid, when I was young. Afraid of what he would think. Afraid of what everyone would think.” He looked back at Feliciano, who nodded encouragingly. “So I um, have a lot of, trauma, I guess you could call it that? About being—” he frowned, “about, well, what—who—I am.” He sighed once more, deeply. “And I’m afraid that I’ll… react…” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “…strongly.”

Feliciano took a moment to consider all this, one of the rare times in his life when he thought before he spoke. “First of all, thank you for telling me, caro. Second of all, I understand. It’s been difficult for you. And I’m sorry for that,” he smiled sadly. “But I’m glad you can talk about it now. If you react… strongly, I’ll be there for you. Don’t worry, I won’t be upset, or anything. I’ll take care of you, amore mio.”

Ludwig’s mouth set into a thin, hard line, his tell when he was suppressing some strong feelings, and he blinked rapidly. “Thank you,” he whispered, hoarsely. 

Smiling brightly, Feliciano said, “Of course.” A few beats of tense silence passed between them. Sensing that Ludwig was done, Feliciano broke the tenseness, one of his strong suits, and began eating his eggs again. “Grazie Dio for the rain! It’s been so dry, lately, I was worried about my flowers!”

Ludwig squeezed Feliciano’s hand, still covering his, then withdrew it, to also continue eating his breakfast. “Ja,” he said, giving the tiniest of smiles. “It is good for the flowers.”

----

Later, after a dinner buzzing with nervous anticipation, Feliciano put on some mindless television. He sat down on the couch, where Ludwig was already perched, looking nervous. Mindful of keeping the atmosphere as normal as possible, Feliciano swung his legs over to put his feet on Ludwig’s lap, and leaned back against the cushions. Silently, they watched the commercials.

“Vegetable pasta?!” Feliciano exclaimed suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at the spiralizer that was being shown on TV. “Mio Dio, what heresy! Where do they come up with such things?”

“America,” Ludwig responded. “Look at the ‘Made in USA’ down at the bottom.”

“Of course,” Feliciano groaned. “All the worst food ideas come from America. They are really giving Britain a competition.”

At this, Ludwig chuckled a bit. Feliciano gave him a smile, glad that he was seeming less nervous. They gazed like that into each other’s eyes, a beat of silence passing, then another. Slowly, hesitantly, Ludwig took Feliciano’s feet from his lap, then crept closer. He had an unreadable look in his eyes. He touched Feliciano’s shoulder with a faintly trembling hand. It was almost like the first time, such trepidation he showed. 

Feliciano was loathe to break the silence, but the tension was getting too much for him. “It’s okay, bello.”

This seemed to break some sort of dam inside of Ludwig, who pulled Feliciano towards him and placed a firm kiss on his lips. “Sorry,” he breathed into the kiss.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Feliciano said when he pulled away. He put his arms around Ludwig, rubbing the other’s back soothingly. 

“It’s just—I’m so nervous.”

“I know. It’s alright. It’s still just me, Ludwig. You can be comfortable around me.”

Ludwig carefully considered his words for a few moments. “Ja. I suppose you are right.” He leaned in close again, brushing a stray lock of hair from Feliciano’s face. This time, Feliciano took the opportunity to close the gap between them, feeling Ludwig’s surprisingly soft lips against his. Slowly, he licked his way into Ludwig’s mouth, the other’s grip tightening around him. The TV long forgotten, they relished in the soft groans against each other’s mouths, the wet sounds of their tongues sliding against each other. Ludwig sucked gently on his bottom lip.

Feliciano felt the thronging of want diffusing through him, making him warm. He slid his hand into Ludwig’s hair, caressing it softly. His other hand crept under Ludwig’s shirt, feeling the strong, solid muscle underneath. Ludwig’s hands on his back gripped tightly, holding him close. 

They were attached to each other, in every which way, at every point of their bodies. The kisses grew hotter, heavier, their breaths becoming harsher. Feliciano fell down on top of Ludwig on the couch, their hands grabbing at each other’s flesh. 

“Mph—Ludwig—” Feliciano said through heated kisses. “Let’s—take this—mph—to—the bedroom—” He managed to pull away, somehow. 

The crimson color high on Ludwig’s handsome cheeks deepened. He swallowed. Feliciano watched the bob of his throat. He wanted to lick on it, suck it, bite it. “Ja,” Ludwig finally said. 

Feliciano smiled salaciously. He sat up, not-so-accidentally grinding against Ludwig’s crotch in the process, and making the man suck in a sharp inhale of breath. Springing up from the couch, he extended a hand. “Let’s go, amore.”

Saying nothing, Ludwig took hold of Feliciano’s hand, and let him lead them to the bedroom. Once there, Feliciano pinned Ludwig against the door, kissing him hard. 

“Oh, wow,” Ludwig said, looking like he was dizzy. “I’ve never seen this… side of you.”

Feliciano grinned. “You’ll see a lot of different sides of me tonight, caro.”

Eyes widening, Ludwig said, “Scheisse—” before he was cut off by Feliciano capturing his lips again. Ludwig let Feliciano lick his way into his mouth, then suck his way down his neck. 

Sticking his hands under Ludwig’s shirt, Feliciano said impatiently, “Off.” Ludwig complied, pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere on the floor. Wasting no time, Feliciano continued trailing down Ludwig’s chest, reaching his left nipple and delicately tracing his tongue around it. 

“Oh, fuck,” Ludwig said. 

“These are sensitive, aren’t they?” Feliciano murmured, taking the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and rolling it gently. When Ludwig didn’t reply, he said, “Answer me, Ludwig,” without looking up. 

“J-Ja.”

“Good boy.”

Ludwig actually moaned at that, something higher-pitched than his usual voice, breathy and so, so fucking hot. Hm. Feliciano would have to file that away for later. 

For now, he switched nipples, latching onto Ludwig’s right and sucking gently, like he would a clit. He played with the other, always lightly. If Ludwig reacted so strongly when Feliciano was barely doing anything to his chest, he’d get too overstimulated if it were any more intense. And Feliciano needed him to feel everything.

“Nngh,” Ludwig was moaning softly. “Oh, Feli…”

It was at this point that Feliciano noticed Ludwig softly rutting against him, his hard cock rubbing against Feliciano’s thigh. He decided it was time to move things along. 

“Bed,” he commanded, giving Ludwig’s nipple a final squeeze before he moved back. 

“Right,” Ludwig said, dazedly. He tried to hide his half-stagger to the bed, but only partially succeeded. 

Feliciano took his own shirt off, then made to unbutton his shorts when Ludwig said, “Wait—” Looking up at him, Ludwig continued, “Can I?”

“Of course, caro.” Feliciano smiled, and walked over to the bed. He let Ludwig’s by-now practiced fingers undo his fly, and slip the shorts down his slim hips. Then he kicked them off, but got caught on one of the cuffs and fell forward, only saved by Ludwig catching him. They both laughed, some of the tension broken. Sexual tension wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes it was laid on, too thick, right away. Feliciano wanted to apply it slowly. 

“Careful, schatzi,” Ludwig said, still chuckling. He helped Feliciano out of the shorts. The latter then sat on Ludwig’s lap, and pushed him backwards onto the bed. 

“Now your turn,” he said. He undid Ludwig’s belt and pants and slid them down, not quite as easily, over the strapping frame. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

Ludwig blushed a little (still, after all this time. How adorable). “A lot, ja.”

“Then I don’t tell you nearly often enough.” Having stripped Ludwig of his underwear now as well, he took his own off, flinging it in some corner of the room. It was a testament to how completely Ludwig was entranced by him that the man didn’t even look to see where it landed, so he could catalogue it for later and clean it up. He motioned for Ludwig to scoot up the bed, so they could lay properly. Then, crawling on top of the other man, he looked down, gaze soft. “You’re so handsome and perfect. And even better,” he leaned down to kiss Ludwig. “All mine.” 

He pulled away with some difficulty, and sat back. He pointed to the nightstands on both sides of the bed, giving Ludwig a quizzical look.

Ludwig shrugged. “I don’t remember where we last put it. I think it’s on your side.”

Feliciano leaned over to that side and opened the drawer. “Good memory.” He popped open the bottle of lube and poured a generous amount on his fingers. “You ready, bello?”

Nodding nervously, Ludwig said. “I wouldn’t have let it get this far if I still had doubts.”

“Okay.” Feliciano leaned down to kiss him sweetly, then laid half on top of him. Some part of his subconscious knew that the weight would be comforting to Ludwig. He wiggled around a bit until he could reach Ludwig’s ass, and circled the rim with his index finger. He kissed Ludwig’s neck softly as he pushed inside. He could feel Ludwig tense, but then relax. The man let out the tiniest of sounds, obviously trying to hold back. No worry. Feliciano would get Ludwig to make as much noise as he wanted soon enough. 

He slowly pushed his finger inside, wiggling it around a little until he could feel the hard roundness of Ludwig’s sweet spot. The other man gasped. “Ja!—uh, I mean, do that again. Please.” Feliciano obliged happily, pushing his finger in as far as he could, and gently massaging the place that made Ludwig whine softly, clenching his hands in the sheets. “Oh, scheisse. Fuck, that feels good.” He seemed almost surprised. 

“What, you think I was just faking this entire time?” Feliciano chuckled. 

“N-no, it was just… I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.”

“Never?” Now it was Feliciano’s turn to be surprised. “But you’re gay. Not even with yourself?”

Ludwig made a face. “I repressed it for a long time, we talked about that. Which is part of why I was so nervous for this.”

“Are you still nervous?”

Averting his gaze, Ludwig said, “Ja.”

Feliciano smiled softly. He kissed Ludwig’s forehead. “It’s okay, let’s just take this slow.” He pumped his finger slowly in and out for a bit. Ludwig shivered beneath him. “Does it at least feel good?” Ludwig nodded. “Good.”

After a little bit, Ludwig said, “I think—I think I’m ready for another.”

“You sure?”

“Ja.”

Feliciano pulled his finger out, watching Ludwig’s hole clench around nothing. It was like it was hungry… He figured that kind of dirty talk would be too much for Ludwig right now (but, maybe, another time) and kept his mouth shut. Reaching over to grab the bottle of lube, he poured some more on his fingers, slicking them together. Then he settled on top of Ludwig again, kissing him as he gently prodded at Ludwig’s entrance with both fingers. He could feel more than see Ludwig’s legs falling open below him, allowing him better access. 

“Good boy,” he said. “You know exactly what to do.” Ludwig moaned again, into his mouth. “You like it when I call you that?” Feliciano said, breaking the kiss. Ludwig nodded mutely. “Call you what?”

Flushing a deep red, Ludwig stammered out, “Good—good boy.”

“Mm, you are, aren’t you? Look at you, you’re doing so well,” Feliciano praised, pushing two of his fingers slowly inside. Ludwig sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes were wide as he looked up at Feliciano, with pupils blown, barely a thin ring of ice blue around them. “Being so good for me,” Feliciano breathed out. “So good. Così buono. Così perfetta.”

Feliciano’s suspicions were confirmed when Ludwig whined at this, and clenched around Feliciano’s fingers. Oh, he was going to shower praise upon him. He would worship him. 

Ludwig’s hips bucked upward, but Feliciano pressed them down with his body. “Be patient for me, angelo,” he whispered. 

The man below him nodded, barely trusting himself to speak. “I’m so dizzy,” he gasped. “Is that normal?”

Feliciano frowned. “Uh, no, not really, I think?” He pulled his fingers out, Ludwig whining at the loss. “Do you feel okay?” he said worriedly, and put his other hand on Ludwig’s forehead to check his temperature. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I think,” Ludwig paused to do just that, “It’s you. Not—not in a bad way!” he quickly assured. “You—I—” He swallowed. “I’m just very emotionally overwhelmed right now.” At Feliciano’s ensuing frown, he continued, “Again, not in a bad way. It’s sort of like, ugh, what’s the right word… catharsis!”

“Catharsis?”

“You know, when you release a lot of strong repressed feelings, and it helps you feel better about them.”

Feliciano thought for a second, then said, “Oh! Catarsi! It’s a similar word in Italian.”

“Ja,” Ludwig nodded. “In German it is ‘katharsis’.”

Even so, Feliciano looked doubtful. “I’m still going to get a glass of water. You said you felt dizzy.”

“Don’t leave me!” Ludwig cried out, before slapping his hands over his mouth. He looked wide-eyed up at Feliciano, who gazed at him curiously. Tentatively, he let his hands fall. “I mean, uh, I mean… T-that’s fine. That’s what I meant.”

“Wow,” Feliciano said, not really meaning to let that out. Ludwig flushed. “This is really intense for you.”

The other man swallowed audibly. “Ja.”

“Are you sure you want to keep going? I haven’t even put my dick in you yet.”

Ludwig’s blush grew more intense. “P-please. I really don’t want to stop now.”

“Okay, caro.” Feliciano looked at him worriedly. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

The other man shook his head. “You’re not. I promise. I’ll tell you if that happens.”

“Promettere?”

“Verspreche.”

Feliciano gazed into his eyes, as if he could find any possible doubts by staring hard enough. This time, Ludwig looked right back at him, unlike many times tonight when he’d averted his gaze. Feliciano took this as a good sign, and picked up the bottle of lube again, smearing it on his fingers. He laid back down on top of him, kissing his neck, as he circled Ludwig’s hole. 

Ludwig swallowed, then opened his mouth, but closed it again.

“What is it, tesoro?”

The other man contemplated for a moment. “You don’t have to be so gentle with me, you know. I’m not made of glass.”

Feliciano raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” Ludwig nodded. Feliciano pushed his fingers in deep, crooking them slightly. He watched Ludwig’s eyes unfocus.

“Ohhh, Feli… like that, ja…” 

Feliciano continued, speeding up a bit. After a little while, Ludwig said, “Mm, more. Please.” 

Drawing back, he said, “You’re being so good for me,” and put some more lube on. “Such a good boy,” he murmured, relishing Ludwig’s shudder. Carefully, he pushed in his fingers, one by one, until he was up to three. He bent down to lave at the other man’s nipples again, curling one of the buds into his mouth. 

“Nng,” Ludwig moaned. Feliciano closed his lips around it, sucking it softly into his mouth. “H-harder.” He was only happy to comply, sucking his cheeks in. Ludwig’s back arched slightly, pushing his chest further up against Feliciano’s mouth, practically grinding against it. 

“Such a needy boy,” Feliciano murmured, letting the object of his ministrations fall from his lips for a moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. My needy boy.” He bent down again to suck at the other nipple, pulling it hard into his mouth. 

“Ah!” Ludwig’s hands flew up to tangle in Feliciano’s hair, not pulling away or pushing, just holding. Feliciano scissored his fingers, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. “Fuck, Feliciano…”

“That’s the plan.” He drew back his mouth and fingers, drinking in Ludwig’s noise of protest, and put some more lube onto his hand. Ludwig didn’t need another finger, but he’d probably feel more comfortable opened up a bit more. Not making Ludwig wait too long, he pushed four fingers in slowly, marveling at how Ludwig was letting him in so beautifully. 

“Ohh,” Ludwig moaned, his fingers tightening in Feliciano’s hair. The latter bucked down to suck a nipple into his mouth again, crooking his fingers at the same time. Ludwig moaned again, higher-pitched this time, his back rising off the bed. He seemed unsure whether he wanted to grind up into Feliciano’s lips or down onto his fingers. 

God, he was driving Feliciano crazy. “So good,” he muttered, thrusting his fingers deeper. “So good for me.” He was starting to get impatient. He wanted to fuck Ludwig so badly. His head spun at the thoughts of what noises he could get Ludwig to make, and he suddenly understood the dizziness the other man had been feeling earlier. 

Taking a breath and putting a lid on his impatience, he concentrated on opening Ludwig up, slicking him nicely for Feliciano. The man’s flush had spread down to his chest now, tinging his pale skin a pretty pink. Feliciano admired his nipples, hard and spit-shiny. Ludwig’s hair, always so perfectly styled, was a mess, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. 

“I’m ready,” Ludwig breathed. “I’m ready for you.”

“Si,” Feliciano murmured sweetly. “All for me.”

“Ich gehöre dir,” the other man whispered back, echoing the same statement—I’m yours—Feliciano had cried many times before, when their positions were switched.

Letting out a breath, Feliciano pulled his fingers out, and sat back to spread lube on his cock. He saw that his hands were shaky. 

Ludwig lay on the bed, his head and shoulders propped up slightly by a pillow. He gazed fondly at Feliciano, eyes half-lidded. The latter crawled back towards him, bracketing the other man’s frame with his hands and knees. “How flexible are you?” he asked.

Grimacing slightly, Ludwig said, “Definitely not as much as you.”

“That’s alright. Can you spread your legs a bit more for me?”

Ludwig nodded, letting his legs fall open. Feliciano kneeled down between them. “Good boy.” He heard the sharp exhale of Ludwig’s breath at the praise, and lined up his cock, then wasted no time pushing the tip inside. 

“A-ah,” Ludwig groaned. His chest heaved. 

“Okay, angelo?” 

The other man nodded. “Just, just give me a moment.” Feliciano waited, peppering Ludwig’s face and neck with kisses. After a bit, Ludwig nodded again and said, “I’m ready.”

Feliciano pushed inside, excruciatingly slowly, pausing every so often to let Ludwig adjust. He closed his eyes briefly in bliss, exhilarating in how tight and hot Ludwig felt around him, despite having opened him up so much already. “Mmm, mio Dio, you feel like a virgin.”

Blushing deeply at that, Ludwig mumbled, “I guess I am, at least for this.”

Feliciano grinned salaciously. “Oh, you are right. I wonder what would our friends say, if they knew I was taking your virginity. If they knew how much you liked it.” Ludwig’s eyes grew big at that, and Feliciano feared he might have gone too far, if it were not for Ludwig’s ensuing whimper, and his hole clenching tightly around Feliciano’s cock. The latter groaned, and said, “Mio Dio, do that again.”

“W-what, this?” Ludwig clenched up again, squeezing Feliciano’s cock so pleasurably. 

“Mmm, si.”

“Oh… I see.” Ludwig did it again, and Feliciano grinned a bit nervously.

“Don’t do that too much, caro. You’re already so tight, I don’t want to come yet.” Ludwig nodded, biting his bottom lip, unaware of how sexy it was. 

With a groan, Feliciano bottomed out. He looked at Ludwig, whose mouth fell slightly open, his eyes hazy. “Tell me whenever you’re ready for me to move.” The other man nodded, his movements slow, stupefied.

Feliciano traced delicate circles on Ludwig’s chest while he waited for the man to adjust, followed by the occasional kiss. Eventually, Ludwig said, “I’m ready.”

Inch by careful inch, Feliciano pulled out, making Ludwig whine. Then, just as slowly, he pushed in again. He started up this agonizing rhythm, until Ludwig said, or rather moaned, “Faster, bitte.” His thrusts grew a little faster, and he experimented minutely with the angle, until—“Oh, fuck!” Ludwig’s back arched underneath him. 

He hooked his arms under Ludwig’s knees, folding him slightly, letting him thrust into the other man more easily. Ludwig’s mouth fell completely open, and he let out a strangled noise about an octave higher than his usual tenor. 

Feliciano stared at him, enraptured. “I’ve never heard you make that noise before.” Mortified, one of Ludwig’s hands flew up to cover his mouth. “No!” Feliciano tried to pry it away. “I like it! I want to hear it! You sound so sexy when you’re moaning for me, bello.” He gave Ludwig a pouting stare. “Please?” The other man’s eyes darted side to side, then he pulled his hand away. Feliciano smiled at him. “Grazie, angelo.”

“I didn’t think I could make that noise,” Ludwig admitted.

“Please,” Feliciano said, pulling himself out all the way, “make as much noise for me as you want.” Then he thrust back in, burying his cock inside completely. 

“Ohhh, Gott!” Ludwig cried out, eyes wide. His hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheets. “Mmng, Feliciano!”

Spurred by Ludwig’s encouraging sounds, Feliciano began a harder and faster pace. His cock throbbed with every beautiful moan and whine that flew from Ludwig’s lips.  

Sing for me, angelo, he thought, but did not say aloud.

“Ahh, fuck, Feli—ja—Gott—bitte, bitte, just like that,” he pleaded with every thrust. “So gut, bitte!” His eyelids fluttered, eyes rolling back in his head. Mio Dio, he was louder than Feliciano was. It turned him on so, so much. 

Feliciano fucked him even harder, making Ludwig wail. He hooked Ludwig’s ankles behind his knees and leaned forward so he could sloppily kiss the other man. He wanted to drink in every sound Ludwig made. Ludwig whined into his mouth as Feliciano continued pounding him, sinking into that tight heat over and over again. He only pulled away when he felt wetness on his cheeks. 

To his surprise, Ludwig had tears running from his eyes. Feliciano immediately stopped and pulled out, prompting another whine from Ludwig. “Oh, no, tesoro! Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

“Nein, nein, it just feels so good, I don’t know why I’m crying, just please don’t stop, if you stop I’ll cry harder,” Ludwig babbled, shaking his head in frustration.

“Oh, fuck, okay,” Feliciano said, instantly sliding his cock back in. 

“Ahhh, Feliciano,” Ludwig moaned. “Bitte hör nicht auf, bitte fick mich weiter, bitte, bitte, bitte…” His pleas rose into a high-pitched scream as Feliciano pounded him as hard and fast as he could, lost in the rhythm of Ludwig’s beautiful noises. “Fuck, Feliciano, fuck, oh Gott, I’m gonna—” His words cut off as his mouth opened in a silent wail, his back arching off the bed, his cock spurting come over both of their bellies and chests. There was so much of it, covering them in the sticky, hot liquid. Ludwig clenched impossibly tight around Feliciano, who was driving in again and again, desperately trying to fuck Ludwig through his orgasm before he came himself. 

“Tesoro, così perfetto, così buono per me, tutto mio, Ludwig, Ludwig,” Feliciano was chanting, as if in prayer. “Ludwig, I—” His cock pulsed as he came deep inside, for what felt like forever, his vision growing dim and hazy. 

After the eternity of that brief moment, he collapsed down onto Ludwig, rising up and down on his chest with the other’s rapid breaths. Ludwig immediately wrapped his arms tightly around Feliciano, as if he wanted to meld them into one. He buried his face into the crook of Feliciano’s neck and began crying harder. 

“Ich liebe dich, ich liebe dich, ich liebe dich, danke, danke,” he gasped out between barely-suppressed sobs. He hadn’t told Feliciano much about his trauma, but he’d gleaned enough from past conversations, and certainly seen enough now, to know that this ran very deep. Ludwig really, really needed this. All of this. 

Feliciano wrapped his arms around Ludwig as best as he could, lying as he was on top of him, and held him, stroking his hair occasionally. He got the sense that Ludwig was holding back very much, and would probably be crying a lot harder if he wasn’t there. Feliciano only wished that Ludwig felt comfortable enough to talk about it with someone, anyone, even if that person wasn’t him. Of course, he wouldn’t mind if that person was him. He supposed it would take time.

After a while, Ludwig had calmed down, and was now hiccupping softly into Feliciano’s shoulder. He sniffed, and said, “Sorry,” in a watery voice. 

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, angelo,” Feliciano said softly. “I’ll always be here for you, whatever you need.” He tapped the finger with his engagement ring against Ludwig’s shoulder. “Remember? Always.”

Ludwig nodded. Feliciano realized he was still inside, and slipped out carefully, making Ludwig suck in his breath sharply. “Scusa, caro,” he said, knowing Ludwig was probably very overstimulated by now. He glanced down at their bellies, sticky with cum. “Do you want to take a shower?”

The other man frowned slightly, also looking down. “Kind of, but… I’m honestly not sure if I can move right now. My body feels so heavy.”

“That’s okay. I’ll bring some washcloths.”

“Not the nice ones,” Ludwig protested.

“Not the nice ones,” Feliciano acquiesced, chuckling softly.

He clambered out of the bed, then limbered to the bathroom to run some washcloths under the tap, making sure the water was a comfortable temperature first. He returned and gently wiped down Ludwig, massaging the cloth in soothing motions. The other man’s eyes drifted slowly shut. Once he was done, Feliciano wiped himself down, and returned to the bathroom to lay the used washcloths on the edge of the hamper. He would rinse them later and then launder them properly, but right now, that was not important. 

Padding softly to the bed, he climbed in again, embracing Ludwig. The other opened his eyes, looking adoringly at Feliciano. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he said.

“And I you,” Feliciano responded. They lay in silence then, drifting off to sleep. Feliciano knew they should talk about Ludwig’s reaction at some point, but now was not the right moment. It was still too raw, too fresh. If he tried to coax anything out of Ludwig now, the man would only retreat back into his shell, embarrassed by the display of emotion.  

After some time, Feliciano thought Ludwig was asleep, and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “Buona notte, amore mio.”

Ludwig, who was only half-asleep, cracked one eye open and murmured, “Gute nacht mein liebling.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, feeling warm, feeling safe, knowing they were home.

[buruzaitama]

Nobody can resist those puppy eyes XD ♥ I loved that Feli could hold his eyes open almost all the episode, lol, and I loved when he made this expression 😍💜

* don't repost*

[guerrerofutsal]

✔ El Osasuna Magna se despide de la liga regular con victoria ante el Levante 🔰 Los granotas empezaron por delante, pero la maquina navarra empezó hacer su juego para vencer de manera clara #lnfs #futsal #levante #osasunamagna #ludfs #cdxota https://www.instagram.com/p/BwxeuDdn4BY/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1wrx6wi1mp5im

[higans]

when i said i was going to reply to that ask >>>

[badwolfwrites-sometimes]

Drawn Together

Hi! This is my first fanfic so criticism is welcome and encouraged. I'll probably update it slowly tho...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923374/chapters/44924251

The wheel of fortune never stops spinning.

Who was on the top, now is on the bottom.

And who was on the bottom, now is on the top.

-Giovanni Gondola, Osman

Feliciano never expected his entire life to change after a single doodle, but there it was. And it was not just a beautiful dream.

Chapter 1

Venice, 2018

"I have to buy more blue and green." Came from a young man watering his tulips on the windowsill. He brushed his light brown hair with his fingers away from his face, allowing it to bathe in the early morning sun rays. He wasn't normally the person who would wake up early in the morning, but duty calls and he had work to do.

His brothers had yet to wake up and, if we're being honest, he enjoyed the morning silence. It was always very noisy in the house. His younger brother Romeo had a habit of singing loudly and, sometimes, off key which pisses off his eldest brother Lovino. It was a good thing they lived a bit outside of Venice and not in the centre or else the neighbours would complain all the time.

And he, a stunning 22 year old man who answers to Feliciano, was always just there. He wasn't really all that flashy like his brothers. Sure, he had his talents, one being art which was also his job, but he was mostly known as the happy one from the Vargas family. Maybe that was for the best.

He just finished watering his tulips when he heard a loud thud followed by a bad word you probably shouldn't teach to your kids. Lovino was awake and if he wanted to live to finish his painting of the Adriatic Sea, he better make him some coffee.

He set down the watering pot and started the coffee machine. Knowing his brother, he has about 20 minutes till he gets ready enough to come down to the kitchen. Just enough time to make breakfast as well.

Feliciano opened the bottom drawer next to the washing machine to take some bread Romeo baked the night before as well as some jam and Nutella from the table next to the stove. He knew Lovino liked it when he made his special half jam half Nutella bread, even though the latter would never admit that.

Lovino was down right on time for breakfast and coffee which means Feliciano gets to live for one more day.

"Morning." Lovino greeted, his voice still sore from sleeping.

"Good morning, Lovi!" Feliciano returned and offered his brother two pieces of bread and his cup of coffee with some anime girls on it. "Are you driving Romeo to collage today?"

"No. Midget can walk to his collage. Maybe he gets some tan from the stupid sun blinding my eyes at 4 in the damn morning."

Despite being the shortest of the three, Lovino still had a bad habit of calling his brothers midgets. Talk about Napoleon complex.

"I was thinking we should all take a walk. It's a nice day and it's been too long since we took a walk together. Plus I need to buy more paint." Feliciano smiled as he made his own cup of coffee, with a picture of the Colosseum on it, and sat down beside his brother.

"When are you gonna get a real job? You can't just draw for a living. Get an actual job that pays well and you can do art in your spare time." Lovino looked at Feliciano, who has most certianly heard this all before.

"It's what I love, Lovi. It's what I want to do with my life. Believe it or not, money isn't everything in the world. I want to be happy with my life. I don't wanna waste it doing something I hate just because it pays well." Feliciano rolled his eyes.

"So you're planning on living off Grandpa's allowances, love and some drawings? That's more miserable than doing what you hate. I hate my job, do you see me miserable? No. Then why can't you do the same?"

"Because I'm not you and I don't wanna talk about this. It's my choice, Lovi. Not yours."

And with that the conversation died, the two brothers continuing their breakfast in awkward silence. Until...

There was a loud thumping and a red headed boy was before them in less than a minute. His messy hair falling on his face, the eyebags still visible. He was gasping for his breath.

"Why didn't anyone wake me up?!" He said in between smaller gasps.

"Romeo, you're 19. You're old enough to wake yourself up." Lovino said, not remotely fazed by his brother's state.

"Um, no. If you woke up before me, you should have woken me up. You know my phone alarm doesn't work. Or my phone at all."

"Fratellino, calm down. You're not in high school anymore, your collage doesn't start till 9. It's 6:40." Feliciano laughed. He had the same problem when he left high school too.

Romeo looked at the clock. It showed 6:40. His high school would start at 7 AM. His body still wasn't used to the new surrounding that was collage. He buried his head in his hands and sat down. "What's for breakfast?"

"My speciality." Feliciano offered him some Nutella-jam bread.

"I love it when you get up early."

"I know you do." Feliciano laughed and the breakfast was continued.

It was 8:00 when Romeo left the house for collage, leaving Lovino and Feliciano alone. Lovino was getting ready in his room while Feliciano wrote the list of things he needed to buy. They were running low on coffee and milk, but most importantly Feliciano wanted to buy a new brush. His old one had far too many stray hairs to be used for delicate painting. It's a shame, but he had it since he was little. Of course he needed a new one.

"Are you done?" Lovino asked, spraying himself with some 'manly' perfume that smelled like plastic strawberry.

"Yeah, I'm done. I just have to find my jacket." Feliciano said, throwing every single jacket they had hanging in the hallway on the floor. A strange method, but it worked because he found his dark green fall jacket and returned all the others back on the stall.

"Good. Let's go. I have to go to the town for some buissness so if we don't hurry bye bye vaporetto." Lovino cringed at the reaction his brother made. They lived close to Venice, but they still had to travel by a smaller ship called vaporetto to get to it. It was inconvenient, but it was good for the tourist season.

Feliciano practically skipped the whole way to the port. There was one vaporetto waiting for people to board. Lovino entered inside to ask when it will be leaving and to pay for their ticket. Feliciano waited outside for his brother and when he exited the room to tell Feliciano they will be leaving soon, Feliciano boarded the ship.

The ride to Venice would usually take them about 45 minutes to a full hour, depending on whether or not there were many tourist groups. Today there was only two of them. Germans. Feliciano had taken a course on German in middle school, but he had mostly forgotten it. He understood that they were talking about some kind of new book that was a hit among youth in Germany. A book about Venice itself. He wished he still knew how to speak German. He would have asked for a title.

They arrived on Riva degli Schiavoni, a bridge and a walk away from the magnificent Basilica di San Marco and it's large Piazza which was always crowded with either people or pigeons. Feliciano loved to run into pigeons, loving the way their wings moved as they flew away. He wanted to do that now, but apparently his brother wasn't planning on more walking and was talking, rather happily, to their old friend Antonio, who was a gondolier.

"Feli! I gotta go to post office, not pigeon chasing! Get your ass over here!" Lovino yelled, reverting back to his moody attitude. He jumped into the gondola and sat down, crossing his arms and legs.

"I'm coming, quit yelling! Hi Toni! I hope Lovi pays you for this." Feliciano greeted and jumped into the gondola and sat down next to his brother. He was looking foward to going under Ponte dei Sospiri. He was even preparing himself to breathe out while going under it.

"It's always free for you three. We're friends after all. Lovi can pay me with a little drink after I'm done with my shift." Antonio said as he adjusted his gondola and softly made his way to the post office near the Church of San Salvador.

Feliciano enjoyed everything he saw. He was born here, but in his entire lifetime he could never comprehend Venice's entire beauty. It was only when he saw a bookstore hidden well among tall buildings and restaurants, that he snapped himself out of the trance.

"Hey Toni, do you think you could bring me right here while we wait for Lovi to do his thing?" He asked, turning around to look at Antonio.

Antonio brushed his curly dark brown hair away from his green eyes and nodded at Feliciano. "Sure! Saw something pretty?"

"Yeah, a bookstore. It had a nice design and I wanted to check it out. Plus I need to buy more paint and bookstores tend to have good ones." He answered happily, oblivious to his brother rolling his eyes.

The ride to the post office was relatively short and quiet, with occasional comments from Feliciano and Antonio asking how their grandpa was doing. They dropped off Lovino and were on their way back to the bookstore Feliciano saw.

"You got a book in mind to buy?" Antonio asked.

"Maybe. I overheard some German tourist talking about this book about Venice or something. I thought I should check if they had it." Feliciano smiled softly at Antonio.

"I think I know what you're talking about. Armando recently bought this book called Silence in Venice, by a German author. I asked my German friend about it and he told me that it was all the rage in Germany now. Apparently, it's a love story about a boy who goes to war and leaves behind his childhood love. That's all I know, Andy didn't tell me much else to avoid spoilers as he says."

"A love story... I really like those. Thanks, Toni!"

Soon they arrived and Feliciano hugged Antonio as a thanks, promising he won't be long.

He entered the bookstore and was immediately striken by the smell of new books. That wonderful scent of paper that was about to be touched and read by many. It was so pleasant, he would have just kept standing there forever. But he had to move, Antonio was waiting for him outside and maybe even Lovino. Knowing his brother, if he waited longer than 10 minutes, he would lose his already short temper.

Feliciano quickly found the desired shades of blue and green as well as a new paintbrush that had small drawings on it. It was a bit more expensive than the normal brush, but it spoke to his soul so... how could he say no?

He was about to go pay for his things, when a book cover caught his eye. It had a picture of two people, a boy and a girl, on Ponte di Rialto, embracing each other like they were about to lose each other. The girl had long light brown hair tied in two side braids and was wearing a beautiful green dress. The boy had blonde hair that looked like it was previously slicked back, but messed up by the wind, and was wearing a war uniform. Feliciano knew which book it was. The title read Il Silenzio a Venezia. Silence in Venice. The book Antonio recommended to him.

Feliciano couldn't resist it. He bought it and happily skipped to the gondola on which Antonio waited for him. He clutched the book in his arms close to his chest, impatiently waiting to read it.

[sirlopezmusic]

Foto después de mi paso por el @caruso_cafe Anoche nos enfocamos en dar lo mejor. @jonmsiniestro !!❤️ Gracias a cada uno de los que me hizo sentir bien con cada gesto de amabilidad para conmigo. El maestro @djlapanchuela tiene un 10 como persona. La bonita gente del @caruso_cafe 😍 @danna.flu @marcoelchino @valysimonetti La comida del @rist.elnorteno 🍛🧆🍹 A él pana de @_ludf_ por darme el Flow con la gorra. Gracias a Wilson del @elpatronshow por ser tan cercano, por la entrevista y hacernos el favor de ir a ver al loco de @l_legendmusic Lo dicho.... Nos vemos prontos! Se les quiere a la gente que mueve Roma por las noches a nivel de fiestas!🇮🇹 #roma #carusocafe #sirlopez #siniestro #djlapanchuela #elpatronshow #ludf #musica (en Roma, Italia / Rome, Italy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVuqclcIbs6/?utm_medium=tumblr

[tattoohousebgd]

у месту 21. Bezirk, Floridsdorf https://www.instagram.com/masterbobb/p/CZICg2-LUDF/?utm_medium=tumblr

[not-the-organ]

Ludf xgfh. A vuf dhvxlkcufw sgd. Sgn wsw ofwyjbnsgx en. Qw'ky skmlkuuc, vmm nzjn'k hesh. Nztn vxykg'n ejew thqcbaga uqufzy. Qxo'jx mlrfd rim, jhv B'g kccde gw.

hey uh. sorry for grabbing your horns. i found out i have an abstract form that couldn't be seen or heard, and i was trying to get you guys to notice i was there last night. --whole

It was... you?

Well atleast now I know you are ok and not dead.

[mrtrumpetwrites]

Geritaweek Day 3: Sunburn

@geritaweek

Day 3 (Aug 30): Sunburn | “Can you put sunscreen on my back?”

Rating: G

Word Count: 4473

It was hot. So hot. Germany could feel the sweat beading down his back, collecting in all his nooks and crannies. He wasn’t used to this kind of heat, and his body wasn’t made for it. Even parked in front of the fan as he was, it only provided him a modicum of relief. 

“Germanyyy,” Italy whined, slumping into the living room. “It’s so hot.”

“I know,” Germany sighed. “It would really be nice to have some air-conditioning in here…”

“It’s not very common in Italy, they have more of it in the south, but still.” Italy flopped onto the couch with a huff, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “How much longer is this heat wave supposed to last?”

“The weatherman on the news said it’s going to be all week.”

“Ughhhh.” Italy picked up one of the random pieces of paper scattered about and started fanning himself with it. “You’re hogging the fan!”

“You’re more used to this kind of weather,” Germany pointed out.

“Yes, but it’s still way hotter than it usually gets here!”

“Fine,” he conceded, and moved away from the fan a bit, allowing it to blow across the room. 

Italy stood up and grabbed a chair, scooting it closer to the fan, and sat next to Germany to enjoy its cool breeze. Germany found himself fascinated by the trickle of sweat sliding down Italy’s collarbone and down, down, into the depths of his white tank top. 

They sat there in sweaty silence, Italy with his eyes closed. Suddenly, his head snapped back up. “I know!”

“What?”

“Let’s go to the beach!”

“Won’t it be very crowded? Probably everybody has the same idea as you.”

Italy smiled secretively. “I know a place.”

“This means you’ll drive, I suppose,” Germany groaned. As did anybody who valued his life, he was hesitant about stepping into a car where Italy was the driver. 

“I’ll be more careful this time!”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Come onnnn, I promise.”

“Well…” It would be nice to feel the crisp sea-breeze, and cool off in the waters. “As long as you actually drive the speed limit this time.”

“I told you to drive the speed limit!” Germany screamed, holding on to the edges of the car for dear life.

“There is no speed limit in Italy!” the other man replied cheerfully, changing lanes without turning on his blinker, and zipping past a slow van. 

“I swear, if you kill me in a car accident, I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your life!”

Italy just giggled, infuriatingly, at that, then dashed impossibly through several lanes of traffic to swing into the exit, tires squealing. Mercifully, he slowed down as the exit turned into a slower road, passing by little cottage-white houses with red roofs. 

“We’re almost there, don’t worry.”

“I’ve been worrying this entire time!” Germany huffed.

“I didn’t get into a car accident, did I?” Italy flashed him a beaming smile.

“Keep your eyes on the road, verdammt! And no, you didn’t, but with the way you drive, it’s only a matter of time!”

Germany was very relieved to see the approaching, distant blue of the sea carved out against the paler hue of the sky. His relief quickly turned to split-second nausea as Italy swerved wildly around traffic hazards, then screeched to a stop, somehow squeezing his gleaming red car into an impractically tiny parking spot along the cobblestoned road. His right hand remained tightly clenched around the handle above the door, while the other had been desperately clinging to his seatbelt for some semblance of something to hold onto. 

“Relax, we’re here now! It’s time for the beach!” Italy undid his seatbelt, which he mercifully wore, and practically sprang out of the car. 

Germany followed, a bit slower, uncurling himself from the nigh-fetal position he’d been clamped in. His brain still felt like it was speeding at 140 kilometers an hour. “You’re lucky I don’t really get motion-sickness,” he muttered. 

Clicking a button on his key fob, Italy watched the trunk swing open automatically, then began pulling out the beach bags. “Oh! Can you check if we have to pay for parking?”

“Fine,” Germany grumbled, still grumpy from the reckless drive. He paced a little ways over to where the ticket tower stood, inspecting it closely. “No fees on Sundays,” he said, raising his voice so Italy could hear. 

“Grande! Let’s go, Germany!” Italy walked, or rather skipped, over to where Germany was standing. “It’s just down this way.”

They walked down winding streets, passing the occasional group of kids kicking around a soccer ball, or an elderly woman sitting on her porch, who waved back when Italy waved at them.

“It doesn’t seem very busy here,” Germany remarked.

“Si, it’s a very quiet neighborhood. Which is why the beach won’t be so full!”

“I think you just disturbed all that quiet when you pulled in here.”

Finally, they reached the bottom, where the street’s worn stones melted into the sand. It was a tiny beach, surrounded on all sides by towering, red rock, but there were scarcely any people. There were a few families, with children playing in the sand, and couples or groups of friends tanning themselves.

“Isn’t it nice?” Italy waved his arms around. “I love this spot.”

“It is pretty nice,” Germany had to admit. “Quiet, too.”

“Si, it’s perfect!”

Germany pointed at an empty spot bordering the edge of the cliffs, where the rocks threw a patch of shadow onto the sand. “Let’s sit over there, then we can have some shade if we want it.”

“Okay!”

After kicking off their shoes, they walked over to the spot, and busied themselves setting up their belongings. Germany took out his neatly folded towel from his beach bag, smoothing it down on the sand and making sure all the edges were laid perfectly flat. Italy struggled to pull his towel out, stuffed haphazardly as it was, and when he finally did, a bunch of his other stuff came spilling out. 

“Your things are getting everywhere!” Germany scolded.

“These are things I need for the beach anyway!” Italy bent down to pick up a tube of sunscreen that had fallen, and brushed the sand off of it. “See?”

Germany just rolled his eyes, but he really couldn’t keep being annoyed. It was a beautiful day, and the sun shone overhead, but the cool breeze coming off the water lessened its blazing heat. Gulls circled lazily in the sky, crying their familiar calls. Occasionally they dipped into the water. Wind-checkered waves lapped at the edge of the sand, stretching out in deeper and darker hues as the sea met the horizon. 

Once their towels had been set up, Germany began unbuttoning his shirt. They had put their swim trunks on at home already, to make things easier. He took off his short-sleeve and folded it carefully, then stowed it neatly away. After grabbing some sunscreen, sunglasses, and a book, he zipped his bag again, so as not to get sand in it. Italy had taken off his tank top, then folded it (not as neatly) and laid it at the head of his towel, to serve as a makeshift pillow. He dug out a frankly enormous pair of sunglasses and perched them on his head.

Germany snorted. “You look ridiculous.”

“Hey!” Italy mock-pouted. “I like these sunglasses. They make me look cool.”

“Whatever you say.”

They flopped down onto the towels, relieved to no longer have the hot sand burning their feet.

“Do you want to go swimming right away?” Italy asked.

“Hmm, let’s put on some sunscreen first and let it soak in.”

“I never get sunburned,” Italy boasted.

“I do. Besides, even if you don’t get sunburnt, it’s still important to put on sunscreen.”

“Fineeee,” the other acquiesced. 

“I’m surprised you even brought sunscreen.”

“It’s the one you bought for me and forced me to take along last time we went to the beach,” Italy said.

“Of course.” Germany rolled his eyes fondly. He picked up his own bottle of sunscreen and began smearing it on his skin, making sure to get every area. 

“Germany, can you put sunscreen on my back?” Italy asked, handing the bottle to him.

“Sure, come here.”

Italy turned around, allowing Germany access to his back, and the latter began smearing on the cream.

“Oooh, it’s cold!” 

“Stop wiggling away!”

“Sorry,” Italy giggled.

Done with the sunscreen on Italy’s back, Germany now turned around as well. “Can you get my back?”

“Of course.”

He heard the clicking of the bottle being uncapped, then Italy’s small hands rubbing the sunscreen into his skin. It felt rather nice, despite the unpleasant oiliness from the cream first being applied. Germany would have to get Italy to give him a back massage, sometime…

“All done!” Italy announced.

“Danke.”

They lounged on their towels, enjoying soaking up the sun, and watching people splash each other in the water. Once they grew sufficiently hot, Germany rose to his feet, extending a hand to Italy. 

“Shall we go?” he said.

“Sounds good to me!” Italy took Germany’s outstretched hand, letting the other pull him to his feet. Germany made to drop his hand, but Italy kept holding on. “Please?” Italy whined, turning his big puppy-dog eyes on Germany. 

“You know I don’t like PDA…” Germany grumbled. He looked around. “I suppose there’s not that many people here… fine. You can hold my hand.” 

“Yay! Grazie, thank you!” Italy skipped along, happily clutching Germany’s hand, as they made their way down to the edge of the water. Tentatively, Italy dipped his toes in. “Ooh, it’s not as cold as I thought it would be!”

“The sun has probably warmed the water a bit.”

Slowly, they waded their way in, up to their midriffs. Italy shivered slightly. “It’s colder now.”

“Ja, your body is covered by the water. You have to swim to warm up.”

Pouting, Italy said, “But then I have to let go of your hand…”

Germany rolled his eyes. “I’ll hold your hand some more when we get out, okay?” Did he really withhold that much affection that even a simple handhold meant that much to Italy? He felt kind of bad, now. However, he wasn’t used to being a touchy person, and definitely wasn’t used to the kind of touchiness the Italian was familiar with. He’d gotten better with physicality since they’d started dating, but there were still some areas that didn’t come naturally to him. 

Germany dove first into the water with a loud splash, slicing through the waves expertly. He swam a little ways, then turned around, beckoning to Italy. “Come on! It’s really nice when you’ve swam a little, then you’ve warmed up.” Unclutching his arms from around himself, Italy eyed the water with trepidation. “Just do it!” Germany called. 

With a sigh inaudible from this distance, but obvious from his body language, Italy splashed into the water, rather ungracefully. “Aahh! It’s cold!”

“Swim over to me, then you will warm up.”

With a mixture between doggy paddling and some semblance of real swimming, Italy sloshed his way over. Upon reaching Germany, he righted himself, and they bobbed there, treading water. “You’re right, Germany, it’s really not so bad once you’ve swam a bit.”

“It’s an old trick I learned, I forget from who. Swim at least thirty or forty strokes, then you will not feel cold anymore in the water.”

“Unless you’re swimming in, I don’t know, Russian water or something!”

“Well, I don’t think anybody sane would do that.”

“Aren’t there people who do those cold water challenges?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, where they will purposefully go and swim in really cold water,” Italy said.

“Oh, I suppose. There’s always people crazy enough to do anything.”

“But this is much nicer.”

“I agree.” Germany dipped himself further into the water to float on his back, paddling slightly to keep his face above the surface.

“How do you do that?” Italy asked.

“Do what?”

“Float on your back like that.”

“You mean you don’t know how?”

“I’ve tried, but I always end up getting water in my face!”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Germany righted himself again. “You have to relax, or otherwise you won’t float. It’s easier in salt water like this. Here, watch me.” Slowly, he leaned back again, letting most of his body bob underneath the surface. “If you do it right, most of you will be underwater, and just your face and maybe toes will be showing.” He paddled his arms a bit. “You can kick your feet and arms sometimes to keep yourself afloat.” He kicked the water to float back upright. “You try.”

“Okayyy…” Italy said hesitantly.

“I’ll make sure you won’t drown.”

Italy slowly let his shoulders fall back, sinking deeper into the water. 

“Gut, just like that!” Germany said encouragingly. “Now, make sure to relax. If you’re too tense, you will have trouble floating.”

For a split second, Italy managed to float on the surface, his face just out of the water, before he flailed and managed to inhale a load of saltwater up his nose. “Gahh ahh! It hurts!” 

“I told you to relax!”

“I’m just no good at this!”

“Here, why don’t we try this in shallower water? Then I can hold you up at first.”

They swam back to where they could feel the soft, sandy bottom underneath their feet. 

“Try again,” Germany coaxed. Italy lay back, and this time Germany put his arms underneath, to support him. “Make your body straighter,” he instructed. Italy made a face at that, but complied. “Gut, ja, like that.”

“Don’t let go,” Italy whimpered. “I don’t want to get saltwater in my nose again!”

Germany sighed. “If you’re not prepared to feel uncomfortable sometimes, then you will never learn new things.”

“Oh wow, that’s so wise!” Italy looked up at him with big, round eyes.

“Concentrate on floating,” Germany admonished. 

“Yes, commander!” They both chuckled at the use of the old nickname. 

“Ja, that’s the right pose. Does it feel like you’re floating?”

“A little bit, but only because you’re still holding me up.”

“I’m going to let go now. Don’t panic.”

“But what if I do?!”

“I’ll just grab you again, okay?” Slowly, Germany removed his arms from under Italy’s back, making sure to correct his posture and give pointers where needed. “If you feel yourself sinking, kick lightly with your feet or wave your hands. You don’t need to move a lot.”

With his lower lip anxiously between his teeth, Italy did as Germany suggested. Miraculously, he managed not to flail this time. “Wow! Look, Germany, I’m doing it!”

“You are.”

“I’m floating!”

“Good job.”

“You taught me well!” Italy giggled, then kicked his legs a bit. “Oh, it really works! Amazing!”

Germany smiled down at him. Italy seemed so happy to have accomplished something so small. He supposed it really was the simple things in life. 

“Float with me, Germany!” he said. 

Wordlessly, Germany laid on his back in the sea, and they floated together, treading the water occasionally. Eventually, Italy grew bored of this, and stood back upright. “Let’s race!” he announced.

“To where?”

Italy pointed to the other side of the beach, where the rocks bordered the cove. “There!”

“You know I’m probably going to win, right?” Germany said.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s about having fun!”

“If you say so.”

“Okay, ready?” They lined up together at the same spot, while Italy counted them off. “One, two… three!” With a loud splash, they dove into the water, Germany immediately launching into a vigorous breaststroke. At the halfway point, he looked back, to see Italy desperately paddling behind him. “Don’t… go… easy… on… me…!” he panted. 

Germany shrugged, then turned around and continued swimming. A few moments later, he reached the finish line, and turned around to wait for Italy. Eventually, the other man reached him, then stood with his hands on his thighs, gasping for breath. “You win… this time…” he wheezed. 

Germany raised an eyebrow. “This time, huh?”

“I think… I’m ready to… go back and… sit… a little…”

At this, Germany huffed a breath of amusement. “Alright.” After letting Italy catch his breath for a little longer, they trudged through the water back to shore, leaving ripples in their wake. Upon reaching their spot, Germany unzipped his bag to take out a fresh, small towel. “To dry ourselves off with,” he explained.

“Oh, that’s so smart!” 

They dried themselves, then laid down upon their beach towels. “I’m going to take a nap!” Italy announced. He flopped over belly-first on the towel, his head on the tank top he had folded into a pillow. 

“I’m going to read some.”

Italy didn’t respond, probably already dozing off. Germany wondered how the man could fall asleep so easily. Then again, he seemed to live a rather carefree life. Often, Germany wished he could be a little more like that. But then, who would take care of the responsibilities… He dashed such thoughts from his head, resolving to relax on this little beach trip. He then picked up his book, a German romance novel that was rather cheesy, but quite riveting. Currently, Friedrich was saying he couldn’t be with Hildegard, because he had to embark on a quest across Europe to fight for his honor. Quickly, Germany was lost in the book. 

After an hour or two baking in the sun, Germany gently shook Italy awake. “I’m going back in the water. Do you want to come?”

“Mmm,” Italy said sleepily, having rolled over onto his back by now. “No, it’s nice here. I think I’ll stay.”

“Okay. Maybe you should put on more sunscreen. You don’t want to get sunburned.”

Italy waved him off nonchalantly. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” Germany stood up and wandered off in the direction of the sea. He busied himself swimming a couple laps from each edge of the cove to the other. Marveling at the purity of the clear water, the way he could see all the way down to the sand, in the shallows at least. At one point, he even spotted a shoal of tiny fishes that fled before him, their thin, silver bodies darting to and fro. Once he grew tired enough, he trotted back to the towels, finding Italy still fast asleep. He dried himself off and picked up where he’d left off in his book, letting the sun dry his swimsuit. Occasionally, he glanced fondly over at Italy’s restful form, the soft rise and falls of his breaths. 

Soon enough, the shadow cast by the rocks had crept across the sand, advancing slowly but surely. It reached halfway down their towels by now. Italy gradually awakened, first his foot twitching, then his eyes hazily blinking open. “How long was I asleep?” he yawned. 

“For a few hours, at least.” Germany chuckled. “That swim must have really tired you out.”

“I guess so.” Italy stretched, then sighed happily. 

“Are you ready to go home soon?”

“Si.” He looked over at Germany, his book still open. “Did you have fun?”

Smiling softly, he said, “I did.” Then, remembering his resolution to try to be more affectionate, he said, “Thank you for taking me here.”

At this, Italy grinned at him. “Nessun problema, amore.” Germany couldn’t help but flush a little at the pet name, still unused to such things. 

Unhurriedly, they packed up their belongings, shaking out their towels and pulling their shirts back on. They trudged through the sand, less hot underfoot now that the sun had pulled back in the sky. Upon reaching the edge of the street, they brushed off their feet and put their sandals back on. 

“I forgot about having to climb all the way back up those streets…” Italy moaned.

“It’s less hot now, so it won’t be so bad. Then we can take a nice cool shower when we get home,” Germany suggested.

“That does sound nice.”

“We can walk slowly.”

They did, chattering occasionally, or remarking upon particularly quaint and beautiful little houses they’d pass by. 

Once back at the car, Germany frowned slightly, remembering how they had gotten there. “Can you please drive slower this time?”

“I promise, I promise.” They loaded the bags into the trunk and got in. “Mio Dio, it’s hot in here,” Italy complained. It was, the stale, heated air almost suffocating. “I will open the roof.” He pressed a button, and the roof folded back with a groaning, mechanical sound, letting cool, fresh air wash through the cabin. With less urgency this time, Italy pulled out of the parking spot, and they were on their way. 

Thankfully, Italy kept to his promise, and actually drove the speed limit the rest of the way home. Once there, Germany motioned for Italy’s beach bag, and took the towels out of both of their bags. He shook them out once again and laid them on chairs in the garden, for them to dry. “Come, let’s take a shower,” he said. It was still quite hot, and despite the car’s open roof, they’d both worked up somewhat of a sweat. 

Germany stepped into the bathroom first, peeling off his swim trunks, which by now were completely dry. He filled the bathroom sink with water and put the swimsuit in there to soak. “Are you coming, schatzi?” he said, more comfortable with affection now that they were alone. 

“Si si, just getting some water,” Italy called from the kitchen. After a few moments, he walked into the bathroom, taking off his swim trunks and depositing them into the sink. Germany set the water to lukewarm, knowing his regular cooler showers would probably be unpleasant for Italy. They both stepped under the spray. Germany was grateful for Italy’s massive shower, which had a showerhead that provided enough water to douse the both of them at the same time. They scrubbed each other’s hair, but when Italy turned his back to Germany, the latter gasped.

“Your back is all red!”

“Oh, really?” Italy tried to crane his neck to see. 

“I told you you would get sunburned!”

“It’s not a sunburn,” he said dismissively. 

“I will still put some lotion on it.”

True to his word, once they were done, Germany went hunting for some lotion in Italy’s messy bathroom cabinets. After locating the bottle, he instructed Italy to sit backwards on a chair. He spread the cool cream on the other man’s back and neck, concentrating on the spots that looked the most red.

“Aahh, that feels nice…” Italy sighed.

“What do you want to eat tonight?” Germany said. “And don’t say pasta.”

Chuckling, Italy responded, “It’s too hot for pasta anyway. Maybe something more refreshing.”

“We can eat some of that fish we got at the market.”

“That’s perfect. I can make a salad to go with it.”

After dinner, they settled onto the couch. Normally, they would cuddle, but it was still too hot for that. Italy winced as he sat back against the pillows.

“Your back?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Italy waved a hand. 

“Mm hmm,” Germany said, unconvinced. He decided not to press the issue. 

They watched some TV, an Italian drama that Italy had convinced him to start. Germany had to admit that it was quite good, and they interspersed the dramatic moments with discussion about what they thought the characters would do next. 

Germany checked his watch. “It’s getting late. We should go to bed.”

“Let’s move the fan to the bedroom.”

“We already have a fan there.”

“I know, but this way we will have two. One for you, and one for me!”

Germany made a little shrug of agreement, then stood up to unplug the fan from its spot on the desk. He moved it to their bedroom, positioning it on the other side of the room from the fan that was already there. Once done, he joined Italy in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. 

He was glad that their bedroom was relatively nice and cool, and the sheets actually did feel refreshing against his heated skin. They lay apart, not wanting to share each other’s body heat, but with their fingers intertwined, to feel a little intimacy. 

Italy sighed happily. “Today was fun. I’m glad we went to the beach.”

“Me too.”

“And I learned how to float!”

Germany chuckled softly. “You did.”

“Buonanotte, bello.”

“Gute nacht, liebling.”

Germany awoke the next morning, already covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He realized what had roused him, Italy was tossing and turning next to him. 

“Hm?” he said, voice cracking with sleep. “What’s wrong, Italy.”

Italy suddenly whipped around to face him. “Oh, you’re awake.”

This woke up him fully; Italy was normally never awake before him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Italy’s eyes darted from side to side, obviously telling that something was wrong. 

Germany was used to it by now when Italy acted cagily, so instead of prying, he would remain patient until the truth, eventually, came out. “Okay, then. If you say so.” He reached over to try to hug Italy, but as soon as his hands touched the man’s back, he cried out in pain. Italy’s hands flew up to cover his mouth, and he looked, wide-eyed, up at Germany. The latter’s eyes narrowed, already suspecting the cause of the problem. “Turn around.”

Italy, hands still covering his mouth, just shook his head mutely.

Germany tried his sweetest voice. “Turn around, schatzi.” When Italy still refused, he forcefully grabbed the man’s shoulders.

“No!”

“Come on, show me your back!” His superior strength won out, and he managed to flip Italy over. The man’s back looked painfully red, and was starting to peel. “Aha, I knew it! You did get sunburnt! ‘Never get sunburned’, my ass!” he crowed, using one of the crude phrases America had taught him. 

Italy sighed, admitting defeat. “Fine, fine, yes! I got sunburned! You were right, okay, I should have listened to you!”

“I told you,” Germany said smugly, still not wanting to give up.

“I knowww,” Italy whined. “Now will you put some lotion on me, please? It hurts.”

“Fine, but only if you admit that I was right.”

“I already did!”

“Say it again.”

“You just love hearing it, don’t you?”

“Maybe I do.”

“You were right!”

“And will you listen to me next time?”

“Si si, I will.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Italy turned to look up at him with sad eyes. “Lotion? Now? Please?”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go.” Germany sat up and threw off the covers.

“And get that smug smile off your face!”

Germany’s smug smile grew even wider. “That, I will not.”

[guerrerofutsal]

📹 Primero te hace la individual perfecta Javi Alonso para que te la finalice Jorge Santos que estaba en el sitio ⚽ #levante #anaitasuna #futsal #sport #ludfs #lud https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw2huezIFIK/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=5ycpbbwvekos

[punchzung]

Shades of Innocence  I tried to read this and I feel love this moment about LudFeli ,Feli become prisoner but he didn’t do anything like that,Oh I feel pity for him and I want to draw something for this Fication like this !

[badwolfwrites-sometimes]

Drawn Together

Hello! It’s me again. And with a new chapter after a long wait. Next one won’t take as long I promise. 

Happy 13th anniversary, Hetalia!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923374/chapters/46632595

Chapter 2

'A maid was her official title, but she looked more like a slave dressed in that dirty green dress barely reaching her knees. Otto found out pretty recently that her name was Alice and that she was from a once noble Venetian family. According to the head maid, her family lost its wealth when her grandfather had fallen horribly ill, thus resulting in massive debt they had to pay to the doctors. It was all, of course, in vain and her grandfather passed away a few months later.

To return the debt, her parents sent her and her older brother to serve two families while they worked day and night. Neither of the two actually got to say goodbye to their grandfather which made Alice depressed. She did put on a polite smile when she had to and Otto thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

They were around the same age, but he saw himself as an older brother figure, though it was obvious he wanted to be more than that. The problem being that he wasn't supposed to have these feelings for her. She lost her nobility status and his parents would kill him if he told them he wanted to marry her. After all, it wasn't appropriate for a prince to marry a slave.'

Feliciano flipped the page. He and Lovino were on the way back home and he decided it was a good time to start reading, just to kill some time. Feliciano wouldn't call himself a fast reader, he had only made it to page 20 after all, but he wasn't very slow. Lovino, who decided to peak a little at what his brother was reading, was a fast reader and would mumble angrily at Feliciano to flip the page already.

"I can lend it to you after I'm done if you want to read it. You go way too fast for me." Feliciano said.

"Not all that interested, just passing the time like you after all. Romantic novels are boring."

"No, they aren't..." Feliciano mumbled and went back to his reading. Not for long, however. They arrived at the port soon enough and Feliciano couldn't help the disappointed sigh.

"Who even wrote that book anyways?" Lovino asked once they were on the way home.

"Well, I overheard a few German tourists talking about it on the way to the town. Hold on..." Feliciano picked up the book from his bag of art supplies and allowed his fingers to grace the authors name. "Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"A German, of course. You should burn that book, Feli. I don't want you to start acting like them. So loud."

"No, I like the book so far. Besides, nothing stereotypically German happened in it yet so... Why does it matter if he's German anyway?"

"You know how I feel about Germans. They act like they are the rulers of Europe, the highest of class. You know, like those aristocrats from fairytales? That's them. And then they come here and start behaving like little kids let loose. You can't even visit Rome anymore because they blocked all the entrances and exits. And all roads lead to Rome! They are brats, Feli!"

Feliciano rolled his eyes. This was typical Lovino. Sometimes he wondered if there was anyone besides Italians that Lovino liked. He did like only one (1) Spaniard and that was Antonio. Romeo was mostly indifferent to everyone, but he never spoke badly of anyone's country. Feliciano had a slightly different perspective. He believed that a country's worth is shown through their culture. In his brother's words it meant he didn't hate anyone.

He let his fingers grace the name of the author once again. Ludwig. Means warrior.

"Who are you talking about?" Lovino asked and Feliciano realised he might have said that aloud.

"Just the meaning of his name. Ludwig means warrior. I guess that means he's very brave. Or maybe he has slain a huge dragon terrorising the town." Feliciano laughed.

"That would mean people would drink me then. Since I'm 'the wine.' I swear mom and dad were probably drunk when they decided I had to be made so they named me after their mistake."

"Why was I named Feliciano?"

Lovino paused. "I don't really know. I guess after someone from the family. I was barely 2 when you were born, I don't remember that much."

"Alright. I'll ask Nonno next time he visits." Feliciano shrugged and put the book back into the bag. They would be home soon anyway.

'"Alice! Come play with us!" A little girl yelled outside for the new girl who was in the middle of dusting an old shelf in the living room. She knew she wasn't supposed to leave yet, but the chance for a break was tempting. And she decided to take it. But not before she bumped into the prince's cousin, Rod.

"And where do you think you're going, missy? Have you finished your duties because I can still see the dust on that shelf? Lazy little maid! You will go without a supper tonight!" Rod yelled at the poor girl who, because of her luck, hadn't eaten in almost 3 days.

"What is all this noise? I'm trying to do my homework." And the prince appeared, Heaven or Hell sent, Alice couldn't tell.

It took Otto a minute to process what was happening here. Alice, his beautiful Alice, was on the floor sobbing and his cousin had a look he had when he won a horse race with Otto's brothers. "Lady, what is my cousin doing to you?"

Alice wiped her tears away, but her voice continued to break before the prince. "He said I'd go without supper tonight and I haven't eaten in 3 days. I just wanted to take a break from work because I've been so tired without food."

Otto was disappointed. And he made sure his cousin knew. Forget about Alice being the love of his life, he was disappointed at Rod for treating anyone like that. Oh, how he wanted to make Rod cook her and everyone in the castle a nice meal to apologize. But he couldn't. He couldn't abuse his position like that or his parents will find out his secret.

"You'll have your supper tonight and you may take a break now. However, as a maid it's your duty to finish your tasks when you've been given them. You may take breaks once you're done." Otto said, offering Alice a hand to get up which she gladly took and resisted the urge to hug him and hide from his cousin. Her clothes were dirty after all.

"Thank you! My name is Alice, by the way. I'm Italian so it's pronounced with a ch." She smiled and Otto felt his knees would give out sooner or later. But they mustn't. Rod was still watching. Furiously.

"You may call me Prince Otto and you may leave for your break now. Try not to cause too much noise near my study room again. That goes for you too, Rod." He gave his cousin an angry look once again and watched Alice let go of his hand and run towards the exit. Afterwards, he returned to his studies, blushing a sweet rose pink.'

[aph-fics-rec]

Lupenrein

Author: Hoemoghost Site: archiveofourown Pairing(s): GerIta Genre: Romance AU(s): Human, Modern, Tourist!Germany, Street Performer!Italy Status: Ongoing // It hasn’t been updated since last year though Chapters: 1 Rating: M (for future chapters; chapter one is mostly T) Word Count: 6k+ Warning(s): Non-explicit descriptions of wound care (blood is mentioned), mild suggestive themes, alcohol consumption by those of legal age (16 in Italy), Ludwig gets drunk Summary: Lu●pen●rein - adj. - German - meaning: flawless, perfect, possessing diamond-like quality. Ludwig Beilschmidt doesn't like vacations. Feliciano Vargas has never been anywhere in his life. They live opposite, but equally content and stunted lives, though they are across a border, one thousand miles apart, and have seemingly never met. In the end, all it takes is a melodic singing voice, a stray curl of hair, and a pair of amber eyes for Ludwig to forget insecurity and remember what it's like to love and be loved. GerIta/LudFelis; Modern, Human AU, Set in Italy; Tourist!Ludwig and Street Performer!Feliciano

Read Lupenrein.

[superbeaucoupdevisages]

💏- LudFeli

25. …as a ‘yes’. | @shrimps-variety-garden

    Today had been another interesting day for Feliciano, he’d pretty much dropped in on Germany without planning ahead of time- As he always did. Unexpected visits was just how Feliciano rolled, and that was a bit obvious over the many years they’d been friends. When he felt the urge to see the taller blond, he would do just that, rarely warning him. If he did warn him, it’s normally be just when he’d gotten there and would be at his house soon. Thanks to this, he normally had to wait until the other was done with his work or whatever else he had to do. No problem for the Italian though, he’d just play with his dogs and mess around his home until he was done.

    Finally when he was finished and came out of the office, he practically bounced over to him to hug him tightly. Mostly because he hadn’t gotten to when he’d first got here. “You’re done! You’re done! Done for good? Nothing else to do today?!” He was so excited to spend time with the other, so he was ecstatic to hear that yes, that was it for the day. Feliciano bounced back and spun in a circle with little cheers of happiness- Now he could have fun with Ludwig with nothing else interrupting them! He stopped his bouncing when asked if he wanted to go somewhere, having to fight back a squeal before popping back over into the German’s personal space, having to hop up to kiss him on the cheek. “Sì! Sì! Lets go! Where are we going?! Can we get lunch?! Pretty please! I’m super hungry! Per favoreeeee?!”

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