[Fanfic] Turnabout: Inversione/Umkehrung [CH2]
TURNABOUT
Part One: Inversione/Umkehrung
» Rating: M
» Classification(s): Humor, Romance
» Warnings: Language, Sexual Situations, Semi-Dubcon
» Pairing(s): Italy/Germany
» Summary: The first in a three part series with different pairings, with the subtitle: reasons one why one should never let Francis anywhere near one's impressionable significant other… [Repost from FF.net]
[ Chapter One]
Italy was acting... oddly.
Well, more oddly than usual.
Ludwig was acutely aware of the piercing stare being aimed at him around the corner from where he was trying--trying--desperately to get some work done. The intensity had been increasing with every minute, until he was ready to grab and strangle the cowardly little Italian crouched just behind the wall with his bare hands. It was like an constant, unscratchable itch. As he determinedly continued scanning pages, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Then tapped his pen on the desk.
Ran a hand over his hair.
Leaned back in his chair.
Fiddled with the edge of a envelope.
Contemplated the suitability of his paperweight for use in aggravated assault.
Finally, he stood, and walked to a point level with the wall where the Italian was 'hiding'. "Can I help you, Italien?" he ground out.
"Ah! Uh, D-Doitsu, er..." The Italian sidled out from around the corner. "That is..."
The German was in no mood for it. "What is it?"
Feliciano was blushing furiously. "Ah, well, y-you see..."
"What is it, Italien?"
"Ve~, this sounded so much easier when France-nii-san was saying it," Feliciano mumbled to himself.
Ludwig scowled. "Frankenreich?" What the hell does that bastard have to do with anything?
"Well... you see..." The Italian was looking at his feet again, damn him. Ludwig could smack him, he really could. "Accidenti, it's much easier with girls, too..."
"What?"
Feliciano looked up into Ludwig's face, and now there was a tearful, hopeful glint in his eyes. "Ve, Doitsu, d-don't forget me, okay?"
"Forget...?" Ludwig looked surprised for a moment. Then he looked away with a cough, his own face reddening a bit. "I-idiot. As if I'd ever forge--mph."
Lips.
Lips?
Lips? On his lips! Feliciano's lips on his lips! Mein Gott im Himmel-!
Ludwig backed away hurriedly, but his own desk banging into his legs and Feliciano's suddenly tentacle-like arms wrapping around his neck prevented them from separating. "MmhmhmHMMM!"
A warm, wet tongue lapped at his mouth, and an entirely unanticipated bolt of heat shot through him. "Ah," he gasped aloud, gripping the edge of the desk behind him, and Feliciano took the opportunity of Ludwig's parted lips to slip his unexpectedly dexterous tongue into the other's mouth.
Feliciano was good at this, Ludwig realized with a dawning horror. Far too good. Wet, hot and deep, the Italian mapped out his mouth like he was staking claim on the New World and under the concentrated assault, Ludwig's head spun helplessly and his knees were in danger of buckling under him. To regain some control of the situation, he tried to get an arm between them to lever the other nation off of him and away. "MMPH!"
With a last long brain-melting suck at his tongue, Feliciano pulled back from the kiss.
"What... what...?" Ludwig gasped out, chest heaving. "What the hell?" he finally settled on.
"Ve~, Doitsu," Feliciano purred into his shocked face, eyes glazed. "You're tasty..." Ludwig tried to jerk away but the Italian simply lowered his head and began kissing his way up Ludwig's jaw, where the skin suddenly felt too tight, too sensitive. He opened his mouth to order the Italian off of him, but all that came out was a horribly emasculating whine as Feliciano caught his ear in his teeth and bit.
"Italien...! GYAH!" Ludwig's hand shot down to grab at the wandering hand that had landed so unceremoniously on his ass. The Italian giggled and squeezed his handful, resulting in another high-pitched yip from Ludwig.
"Eh, don't you like it?" he murmured into Ludwig's ear as the hand smoothed up his back. Ludwig arched away from it, into Feliciano, and turned an even darker red when the Italian let out a little moan of his own as their bodies rubbed against each other in all the right... wrong! WRONG! places. He's hard! I'm hard! Oh Gott, Gott...!
Feliciano was sucking on his exposed neck now, hot little bites and pinpricks of pain that made Ludwig's body pulse and his breathing laborous. The playful, searing movement of Feliciano's mouth on his skin was making it difficult to even think, let alone form words, but he needed-- he needed to-- "Wait... wait a moment... haaah, Feliciano...!"
"Ve, Doitsu's loud," the other nation pouted. One hand fisted in Ludwig's hair to hold him in another blistering kiss, while the other swept the desk behind him, knocking the carefully stacked papers and ledgers to the ground. That, more than any internal battle, brought Ludwig out of the euphoric haze he'd slipped into to break the kiss with a wrench and slap a hand over Feliciano's mouth as the other nation pressed forward. "Hör damit auf! What the Họ̈lle is going on here?" he panted.
Feliciano mumbled something against his fingers, then licked them. Ludwig jerked his hand away and Feliciano overbalanced them onto the desk, Ludwig hitting his head and managing a curt "Verdammt!" before the other nation was on him again.
If the damn Italian thought that his extremely talented mouth would be enough to distract Ludwig from the fingers fiddling with the button on his pants--he was very nearly right. Ludwig only noticed the creeping digits once they'd undone both the button and zipper and were making a play for his boxers. He yelped into another kiss at the first contact of skin to skin on his lower abdomen, jerking up to better defend himself, and made a choking noise as one of Feliciano's hands managed to work it's way through Ludwig's clothing and fist the German's cock.
"Hmm," said Feliciano with a thoughtful look as a speechless Ludwig froze, hands locked on the Italian's wrist, not daring to move one way or the other. He stroked up, once. Ludwig shuddered. He did it again. Ludwig moaned, voice an octave higher than normal. He started a rhythm, hard and fast, and Ludwig let go of him to brace himself on the desk as the world threatened to slip sideways. His hips moved involuntarily to the other nation's pace; the German brought a hand to his mouth to muffle the noises trying to tear free with every errant tug.
Feliciano laughed and pulled it away to press kisses along Ludwig's lips and chin. "Ve~, Doitsu, this is more fun then I thought it would be." It really was just like girls! Except for the whole pistolino thing, but he knew what to do with that-- he had one himself. And it was somehow even cuter when a man like Doistu made those scrunched-up, desperate faces than when a girl did. He sighed happily and gave an experimental rub over the head. Doistu made an odd mewling noise through clenched teeth; he decided he liked it, and tried to make him do it again. The second time was even cuter! Carino!
Ludwig at this point gave up the ghost and toppled back against the desk, leaving the way open for Feliciano to slowly unbutton his uniform, pull up his undershirt and commence what Ludwig later felt he could accurately describe as 'ravishing'. His hands occupied, the Italian marked his way down Ludwig's exposed neck and torso with slow care and attention, doggedly searching for and finding the exact points that would reduce Ludwig to utter shuddering incoherency while his hands, his talented damn hands stroked and prodded. Feliciano caught his nipple in a hard suckle and he swore.
Ludwig's mind was being reduced to pudding while his body became putty in the Italian's hands, or he might have deduced Feliciano's eventual goal. As it was, he barely noticed the quick stripping of every piece of clothing off his lower body and only blinked blearily as Feliciano's tongue drew a hot line down the crease where thigh met leg. There was the warning click as a bottle of lube was opened, but the noise was mostly lost in the roaring in his ears. Thus, it came as a complete surprise to the German when Feliciano plunged his hot, hot mouth down over Ludwig's straining cock, and at the same time shoved two slick fingers as deep as they could go into his completely unprepared entrance.
Both of Ludwig's hands vised in Feliciano's hair as his body arched like a bow, but whether to yank him off or pull him closer they couldn't seem to decide. The Italian rolled his eyes up to look straight into Ludwig's wide, panicky stare as he deliberately tongued the sensitive vein running along its underside and experimentally waggled his fingers. The German managed a noise like "Erruh," and the grip in Feliciano's hair slackened, which the Italian blithely took as permission to continue. The fingers started a slow rhythm, and his mouth followed suit, and all Ludwig could do was let his head fall back and grip the edge of the desk until the wood creaked. A little voice was shouting at him in his mind, trying to tell him something, but it was all too much to think anymore, too difficult to focus on anything but the blissfully inexpert motions of Feliciano's lips around him, and the foreign sensation of fingers IN him, curling as if searching for something--that--they suddenly found.
Ludwig's hips gave an unexpectedly strong thrust up and Feliciano accidentally scraped up his length with his teeth; Ludwig cried out, with a note of desperate need the Italian hadn't heard before; he experimentally nibbled over the head and was rewarded with a half-wild whimper. With a happy suckle, he filed it away for future reference: Ve, Doitsu is a bit of a masochist! He added a third finger and twisted his hand a bit harshly, and was rewarded with an open-mouthed "Italien!", eyes screwed shut and tears leaking out the corners.
Minutes or hours later, Feliciano slid his lips off Ludwig's cock with a wet, obscene pop. The German was, at this point, incoherent to the point of delirium and barely managed a weak grunt of protest as Feliciano pulled his fingers out of him with a last cruel rub. The click of the lube bottle was a little more clear now, and Ludwig cracked his eyes open at the noise. The Italian's usual air-headed grin was somehow toothier, with an uncharacteristically hungry edge to it. Noticing his attention, he made a show of slowly, sensually coating his erect and... somehow menacing member. Ludwig swallowed.
The little voice in Ludwig's head finally became audible. You're about to get fucked by Italien! ITALIEN...!
"Ve, Doitsu," Feliciano whispered throatily, tilting his head back with a little moan as he stroked the lubricant over himself. "Ti voglio tanto..."
... so it would appear, he answered it.
The Italian bent one of Ludwig's knees up, pressing a soft kiss to the inside as he positioned himself, and took a moment to admire his handiwork. It truly gratified his male nature to see the German laid out like this, bruised, teary and trembling. Come adorabile! Francis-nii-san was completely right abo--
Then Ludwig licked his lips and said, with a tiny quiver in his voice, "Be... be gentle."
A beat.
Feliciano's curl straightened out with a sproing!.
"Eh? War-warte! Wait-- ah, ah, AH! AH!"
"Sei troppo sexy, sai?" The Italian murmured breathlessly into his ear, taking the opportunity to nuzzle at the soft skin there. Ludwig's arms clamped themselves as tight as a vise around his neck, which was fine with him, because this close he could hear every little heated gasp and choked whimper that the German made as Feliciano steadily worked himself deeper. Così buono! With one harder thrust he was buried to the hilt, and let his head fall onto Ludwig's shoulder. The German made a strangled noise of pain and tight pleasure. When he would have locked his legs around the other nation's waist to prevent any further movement, Feliciano slid his arms under them. "No, no, caro, amante," he smiled down at him.
From this completely vulnerable position, Ludwig glared dizzily up at him. He opened his mouth to tell him off, but the only thing that came out was a sort of lascivious, "Ahn..." as Feliciano began slowly pulling back. Ludwig watched hazily and squirmed uncontrollably as Feliciano's brow crinkled and he rotated his hips experimentally, hoisted the German's legs higher. "Ve, Doistu, let me know when I hit your spot, va bene?"
"Hn?" he asked, uncomprehending.
Feliciano, apparently satisfied with his new position, thrust again, and Ludwig's hips jerked and breath came in a sharp gasp as a new, electric heat sparked and burned through his system. At the second thrust, he voiced a panted "Nngh!" and arched back against the desk. The Italian laughed softly and nibbled at the exposed underside of his jaw. "Verdammt," he gritted out, not quite sure who he was cursing. "Ha-ah! Ah! Feliciano!"
Feliciano, still thrusting, grinned a little wildly. "This is much better than girls," he confided, hair beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat. "But you're feeling it? Buono. I'll go much faster now, sì?"
Ludwig's eyes widened. "Wha? Nein--"
But the Italian began a fast, boisterous rhythm that completely overwhelmed what little was left of Ludwig's wits. Too much, too much, too fast, and he felt hot, hotter with every thrust, and couldn't stop his fingers from digging harder and harder into Feliciano's shoulders and back, couldn't stop his own mortifyingly wanton moans from clawing their way out his reluctant throat. Their lips found each other's, a bit frantically on Ludwig's part, because he was desperate to distract himself from the fact that he was, yes, being fucked by Italy, and yes, his body apparently enjoyed it so much that he found his hips matched Feliciano's thrust for thrust without his conscious decision. Feliciano whispered sinful little things to him, and kissed and kissed him until he was light-headed and breathless. Papers covered in sums and troop movements stuck to their damp skin and flutered off the edges of the desk.
"Ah, Doitsu, I'm, getting close," Feliciano gasped into his ear. He dragged Ludwig's hips closer to the edge of the desk, pinned his legs open wider and ground himself into Ludwig, head tipping back towards the ceiling. "Mmmmm, Doitsu," he groaned out. "Do you-do you think you could touch yourself?"
"Ha?" The new angle and sudden lack of the movement he needed, craved, made Ludwig's shudder. His eyes, which had been tightly closed, slid slowly open.
Feliciano looked back to smile lazily down at him, sliding his tongue along his lower lip in a slow, sensual lick. "Touch yourself, Doitsu~," he purred. "I want to see it." His hips gave a long, rolling thrust that drug free another reluctant moan from the man underneath him.
A spasm of embarrassment cut through the blurry-eyed passion on Ludwig's face. "Ah... s-something like that..."
Feliciano grinned. So cute!
He tangled his fingers with those of a hand he could reach, and brought them to Ludwig's straining, bouncing erection. "Together, then," he said throatily, and began his thrusts anew.
The dual sensation was so acutely erotic that it wrung a helpless cry from Ludwig, and before he could brace for it Feliciano's hand over his sped to the point of unbearability and the Italian sank his teeth into the juncture of neck and shoulder. The confused jumble of bright pain and jagged pleasure struck him like a bullet and he arched high into the Italian, crying out as his orgasm was ripped from him. It rode the edges of the other nation's harsh thrusts until it crashed over them both, Feliciano choking on Ludwig's name as he clenched around him.
The Italian pulled back from the bleeding punctures he'd left in Ludwig's neck, and staring intensely down at him, panted, "Again."
Ludwig's head lolled against the desk as he attempted to shake it in denial. "Can't," he managed, his voice weak from the force of his climax.
"Again." Feliciano laughed breathlessly. "Caro mio, you're beautiful. I want to see it again." He lapped at the come that had managed to hit the German's chin. "Tesoruccio, amore, let me see it again."
"Can't..." But it died in his mouth as Feliciano gripped his hips and moved them in time with his own. "Feliciano!"
As the other nation restarted his punishing rhythm, only one thought remained in Ludwig's beleaguered, lust-crazed mind...
"... why?"
Feliciano, his head burrowed into Ludwig's bruised neck, gave a drowsy, "Che?"
"Why...?" Did I just get gefickt, in my own office? By Italien? FOUR TIMES?
Feliciano yawned. "France-nii-san said you definitely wouldn't forget me if I did the fucking with you, which makes sense."
The German considered this. "How does that make any sense?"
The Italian smiled sleepily. "No girl ever forgets it when I do her."
"...Gott."
"You won't, will you?" The Italian lited his head abruptly, his eyes suddenly wide and fearful. "You'll always remember me, and won't leave me behind when you become friends with Russia?"
Ludwig stared incredulously up at him. "Frankreich and Russland? What the Họ̈lle do either of them have to do with-- with this?"
The Italian's lower lip trembled. "You won't, will you?"
Ludwig tried to sit up and Feliciano braced himself over him on his hands, pushing him back. "I promise I'll be faithful," he said with rushed eager earnestness. "I won't do the fucking with anyone but you, not even the most beautiful girls. Not even that market girl or the one on the motorbike yesterday or--!"
"Stop. Talking," Ludwig ordered with quite the last of his patience.
"Doitsuuuuuuuu! Don't leave me!" Feliciano wailed, grabbing for his knees and shoving them to his shoulders. "We need to do it harder!"
"Ouch! Was zum Teufel? STEIG VON MI-!"
"Che? You want it from the back? Va bene~!"
Author Note:
I love uke!Germany. I love making any supposed seme play uke to his supposed uke. (That made sense... right?)
Translations (in order of appearance, and holy shit there are a lot of them):
l'amour, physical - physical love
tellement stupide - so stupid
Accouplement. Ça-va ça-vient. Comme- - Coupling. In-and-out. Like-
giusto - right/correct
mon petit - my little
Si - Yes
Tranne - but
La principe - the principle
il est nécessaire - it is necessary
Grazie infinite - Thanks so much
l'Allemande - Germany
Italien? - Italy?
Frankreich - France
Accidenti - Damn
Mein Gott im Himmel-! - My God in Heaven-!
Gott, Gott...! - God, God...!
Verdammt! - Damn it!
pistolino - little pistol. Hmmm, what could that possibly refer to?
Carino! - Cute!
Ti voglio tanto... - I want you so much/I love you so much...
Come adorabile! - How adorable!
War-warte! - Wai-Wait!
Sei troppo sexy, sai? - You're too sexy, you know?
No, no, caro, amante - no, no, dear, love
va bene? - okay?
buono - good
Russland? - Russia
Họ̈lle - Hell
Was zum Teufel? STEIG SIE VON MI-! - What the hell? GET OFF OF ME-!
Caro mio - my dear/love/etc
Tesoruccio - literally, my cute little treasure
Amore - lovah
Che? - what?
[[ kototyph fic masterlist]]
Part One: Inversione/Umkehrung
» Rating: M
» Classification(s): Humor, Romance
» Warnings: Language, Sexual Situations, Semi-Dubcon
» Pairing(s): Italy/Germany
» Summary: The first in a three part series with different pairings, with the subtitle: reasons one why one should never let Francis anywhere near one's impressionable significant other… [Repost from FF.net]
[ Chapter One]
Italy was acting... oddly.
Well, more oddly than usual.
Ludwig was acutely aware of the piercing stare being aimed at him around the corner from where he was trying--trying--desperately to get some work done. The intensity had been increasing with every minute, until he was ready to grab and strangle the cowardly little Italian crouched just behind the wall with his bare hands. It was like an constant, unscratchable itch. As he determinedly continued scanning pages, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Then tapped his pen on the desk.
Ran a hand over his hair.
Leaned back in his chair.
Fiddled with the edge of a envelope.
Contemplated the suitability of his paperweight for use in aggravated assault.
Finally, he stood, and walked to a point level with the wall where the Italian was 'hiding'. "Can I help you, Italien?" he ground out.
"Ah! Uh, D-Doitsu, er..." The Italian sidled out from around the corner. "That is..."
The German was in no mood for it. "What is it?"
Feliciano was blushing furiously. "Ah, well, y-you see..."
"What is it, Italien?"
"Ve~, this sounded so much easier when France-nii-san was saying it," Feliciano mumbled to himself.
Ludwig scowled. "Frankenreich?" What the hell does that bastard have to do with anything?
"Well... you see..." The Italian was looking at his feet again, damn him. Ludwig could smack him, he really could. "Accidenti, it's much easier with girls, too..."
"What?"
Feliciano looked up into Ludwig's face, and now there was a tearful, hopeful glint in his eyes. "Ve, Doitsu, d-don't forget me, okay?"
"Forget...?" Ludwig looked surprised for a moment. Then he looked away with a cough, his own face reddening a bit. "I-idiot. As if I'd ever forge--mph."
Lips.
Lips?
Lips? On his lips! Feliciano's lips on his lips! Mein Gott im Himmel-!
Ludwig backed away hurriedly, but his own desk banging into his legs and Feliciano's suddenly tentacle-like arms wrapping around his neck prevented them from separating. "MmhmhmHMMM!"
A warm, wet tongue lapped at his mouth, and an entirely unanticipated bolt of heat shot through him. "Ah," he gasped aloud, gripping the edge of the desk behind him, and Feliciano took the opportunity of Ludwig's parted lips to slip his unexpectedly dexterous tongue into the other's mouth.
Feliciano was good at this, Ludwig realized with a dawning horror. Far too good. Wet, hot and deep, the Italian mapped out his mouth like he was staking claim on the New World and under the concentrated assault, Ludwig's head spun helplessly and his knees were in danger of buckling under him. To regain some control of the situation, he tried to get an arm between them to lever the other nation off of him and away. "MMPH!"
With a last long brain-melting suck at his tongue, Feliciano pulled back from the kiss.
"What... what...?" Ludwig gasped out, chest heaving. "What the hell?" he finally settled on.
"Ve~, Doitsu," Feliciano purred into his shocked face, eyes glazed. "You're tasty..." Ludwig tried to jerk away but the Italian simply lowered his head and began kissing his way up Ludwig's jaw, where the skin suddenly felt too tight, too sensitive. He opened his mouth to order the Italian off of him, but all that came out was a horribly emasculating whine as Feliciano caught his ear in his teeth and bit.
"Italien...! GYAH!" Ludwig's hand shot down to grab at the wandering hand that had landed so unceremoniously on his ass. The Italian giggled and squeezed his handful, resulting in another high-pitched yip from Ludwig.
"Eh, don't you like it?" he murmured into Ludwig's ear as the hand smoothed up his back. Ludwig arched away from it, into Feliciano, and turned an even darker red when the Italian let out a little moan of his own as their bodies rubbed against each other in all the right... wrong! WRONG! places. He's hard! I'm hard! Oh Gott, Gott...!
Feliciano was sucking on his exposed neck now, hot little bites and pinpricks of pain that made Ludwig's body pulse and his breathing laborous. The playful, searing movement of Feliciano's mouth on his skin was making it difficult to even think, let alone form words, but he needed-- he needed to-- "Wait... wait a moment... haaah, Feliciano...!"
"Ve, Doitsu's loud," the other nation pouted. One hand fisted in Ludwig's hair to hold him in another blistering kiss, while the other swept the desk behind him, knocking the carefully stacked papers and ledgers to the ground. That, more than any internal battle, brought Ludwig out of the euphoric haze he'd slipped into to break the kiss with a wrench and slap a hand over Feliciano's mouth as the other nation pressed forward. "Hör damit auf! What the Họ̈lle is going on here?" he panted.
Feliciano mumbled something against his fingers, then licked them. Ludwig jerked his hand away and Feliciano overbalanced them onto the desk, Ludwig hitting his head and managing a curt "Verdammt!" before the other nation was on him again.
If the damn Italian thought that his extremely talented mouth would be enough to distract Ludwig from the fingers fiddling with the button on his pants--he was very nearly right. Ludwig only noticed the creeping digits once they'd undone both the button and zipper and were making a play for his boxers. He yelped into another kiss at the first contact of skin to skin on his lower abdomen, jerking up to better defend himself, and made a choking noise as one of Feliciano's hands managed to work it's way through Ludwig's clothing and fist the German's cock.
"Hmm," said Feliciano with a thoughtful look as a speechless Ludwig froze, hands locked on the Italian's wrist, not daring to move one way or the other. He stroked up, once. Ludwig shuddered. He did it again. Ludwig moaned, voice an octave higher than normal. He started a rhythm, hard and fast, and Ludwig let go of him to brace himself on the desk as the world threatened to slip sideways. His hips moved involuntarily to the other nation's pace; the German brought a hand to his mouth to muffle the noises trying to tear free with every errant tug.
Feliciano laughed and pulled it away to press kisses along Ludwig's lips and chin. "Ve~, Doitsu, this is more fun then I thought it would be." It really was just like girls! Except for the whole pistolino thing, but he knew what to do with that-- he had one himself. And it was somehow even cuter when a man like Doistu made those scrunched-up, desperate faces than when a girl did. He sighed happily and gave an experimental rub over the head. Doistu made an odd mewling noise through clenched teeth; he decided he liked it, and tried to make him do it again. The second time was even cuter! Carino!
Ludwig at this point gave up the ghost and toppled back against the desk, leaving the way open for Feliciano to slowly unbutton his uniform, pull up his undershirt and commence what Ludwig later felt he could accurately describe as 'ravishing'. His hands occupied, the Italian marked his way down Ludwig's exposed neck and torso with slow care and attention, doggedly searching for and finding the exact points that would reduce Ludwig to utter shuddering incoherency while his hands, his talented damn hands stroked and prodded. Feliciano caught his nipple in a hard suckle and he swore.
Ludwig's mind was being reduced to pudding while his body became putty in the Italian's hands, or he might have deduced Feliciano's eventual goal. As it was, he barely noticed the quick stripping of every piece of clothing off his lower body and only blinked blearily as Feliciano's tongue drew a hot line down the crease where thigh met leg. There was the warning click as a bottle of lube was opened, but the noise was mostly lost in the roaring in his ears. Thus, it came as a complete surprise to the German when Feliciano plunged his hot, hot mouth down over Ludwig's straining cock, and at the same time shoved two slick fingers as deep as they could go into his completely unprepared entrance.
Both of Ludwig's hands vised in Feliciano's hair as his body arched like a bow, but whether to yank him off or pull him closer they couldn't seem to decide. The Italian rolled his eyes up to look straight into Ludwig's wide, panicky stare as he deliberately tongued the sensitive vein running along its underside and experimentally waggled his fingers. The German managed a noise like "Erruh," and the grip in Feliciano's hair slackened, which the Italian blithely took as permission to continue. The fingers started a slow rhythm, and his mouth followed suit, and all Ludwig could do was let his head fall back and grip the edge of the desk until the wood creaked. A little voice was shouting at him in his mind, trying to tell him something, but it was all too much to think anymore, too difficult to focus on anything but the blissfully inexpert motions of Feliciano's lips around him, and the foreign sensation of fingers IN him, curling as if searching for something--that--they suddenly found.
Ludwig's hips gave an unexpectedly strong thrust up and Feliciano accidentally scraped up his length with his teeth; Ludwig cried out, with a note of desperate need the Italian hadn't heard before; he experimentally nibbled over the head and was rewarded with a half-wild whimper. With a happy suckle, he filed it away for future reference: Ve, Doitsu is a bit of a masochist! He added a third finger and twisted his hand a bit harshly, and was rewarded with an open-mouthed "Italien!", eyes screwed shut and tears leaking out the corners.
Minutes or hours later, Feliciano slid his lips off Ludwig's cock with a wet, obscene pop. The German was, at this point, incoherent to the point of delirium and barely managed a weak grunt of protest as Feliciano pulled his fingers out of him with a last cruel rub. The click of the lube bottle was a little more clear now, and Ludwig cracked his eyes open at the noise. The Italian's usual air-headed grin was somehow toothier, with an uncharacteristically hungry edge to it. Noticing his attention, he made a show of slowly, sensually coating his erect and... somehow menacing member. Ludwig swallowed.
The little voice in Ludwig's head finally became audible. You're about to get fucked by Italien! ITALIEN...!
"Ve, Doitsu," Feliciano whispered throatily, tilting his head back with a little moan as he stroked the lubricant over himself. "Ti voglio tanto..."
... so it would appear, he answered it.
The Italian bent one of Ludwig's knees up, pressing a soft kiss to the inside as he positioned himself, and took a moment to admire his handiwork. It truly gratified his male nature to see the German laid out like this, bruised, teary and trembling. Come adorabile! Francis-nii-san was completely right abo--
Then Ludwig licked his lips and said, with a tiny quiver in his voice, "Be... be gentle."
A beat.
Feliciano's curl straightened out with a sproing!.
"Eh? War-warte! Wait-- ah, ah, AH! AH!"
"Sei troppo sexy, sai?" The Italian murmured breathlessly into his ear, taking the opportunity to nuzzle at the soft skin there. Ludwig's arms clamped themselves as tight as a vise around his neck, which was fine with him, because this close he could hear every little heated gasp and choked whimper that the German made as Feliciano steadily worked himself deeper. Così buono! With one harder thrust he was buried to the hilt, and let his head fall onto Ludwig's shoulder. The German made a strangled noise of pain and tight pleasure. When he would have locked his legs around the other nation's waist to prevent any further movement, Feliciano slid his arms under them. "No, no, caro, amante," he smiled down at him.
From this completely vulnerable position, Ludwig glared dizzily up at him. He opened his mouth to tell him off, but the only thing that came out was a sort of lascivious, "Ahn..." as Feliciano began slowly pulling back. Ludwig watched hazily and squirmed uncontrollably as Feliciano's brow crinkled and he rotated his hips experimentally, hoisted the German's legs higher. "Ve, Doistu, let me know when I hit your spot, va bene?"
"Hn?" he asked, uncomprehending.
Feliciano, apparently satisfied with his new position, thrust again, and Ludwig's hips jerked and breath came in a sharp gasp as a new, electric heat sparked and burned through his system. At the second thrust, he voiced a panted "Nngh!" and arched back against the desk. The Italian laughed softly and nibbled at the exposed underside of his jaw. "Verdammt," he gritted out, not quite sure who he was cursing. "Ha-ah! Ah! Feliciano!"
Feliciano, still thrusting, grinned a little wildly. "This is much better than girls," he confided, hair beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat. "But you're feeling it? Buono. I'll go much faster now, sì?"
Ludwig's eyes widened. "Wha? Nein--"
But the Italian began a fast, boisterous rhythm that completely overwhelmed what little was left of Ludwig's wits. Too much, too much, too fast, and he felt hot, hotter with every thrust, and couldn't stop his fingers from digging harder and harder into Feliciano's shoulders and back, couldn't stop his own mortifyingly wanton moans from clawing their way out his reluctant throat. Their lips found each other's, a bit frantically on Ludwig's part, because he was desperate to distract himself from the fact that he was, yes, being fucked by Italy, and yes, his body apparently enjoyed it so much that he found his hips matched Feliciano's thrust for thrust without his conscious decision. Feliciano whispered sinful little things to him, and kissed and kissed him until he was light-headed and breathless. Papers covered in sums and troop movements stuck to their damp skin and flutered off the edges of the desk.
"Ah, Doitsu, I'm, getting close," Feliciano gasped into his ear. He dragged Ludwig's hips closer to the edge of the desk, pinned his legs open wider and ground himself into Ludwig, head tipping back towards the ceiling. "Mmmmm, Doitsu," he groaned out. "Do you-do you think you could touch yourself?"
"Ha?" The new angle and sudden lack of the movement he needed, craved, made Ludwig's shudder. His eyes, which had been tightly closed, slid slowly open.
Feliciano looked back to smile lazily down at him, sliding his tongue along his lower lip in a slow, sensual lick. "Touch yourself, Doitsu~," he purred. "I want to see it." His hips gave a long, rolling thrust that drug free another reluctant moan from the man underneath him.
A spasm of embarrassment cut through the blurry-eyed passion on Ludwig's face. "Ah... s-something like that..."
Feliciano grinned. So cute!
He tangled his fingers with those of a hand he could reach, and brought them to Ludwig's straining, bouncing erection. "Together, then," he said throatily, and began his thrusts anew.
The dual sensation was so acutely erotic that it wrung a helpless cry from Ludwig, and before he could brace for it Feliciano's hand over his sped to the point of unbearability and the Italian sank his teeth into the juncture of neck and shoulder. The confused jumble of bright pain and jagged pleasure struck him like a bullet and he arched high into the Italian, crying out as his orgasm was ripped from him. It rode the edges of the other nation's harsh thrusts until it crashed over them both, Feliciano choking on Ludwig's name as he clenched around him.
The Italian pulled back from the bleeding punctures he'd left in Ludwig's neck, and staring intensely down at him, panted, "Again."
Ludwig's head lolled against the desk as he attempted to shake it in denial. "Can't," he managed, his voice weak from the force of his climax.
"Again." Feliciano laughed breathlessly. "Caro mio, you're beautiful. I want to see it again." He lapped at the come that had managed to hit the German's chin. "Tesoruccio, amore, let me see it again."
"Can't..." But it died in his mouth as Feliciano gripped his hips and moved them in time with his own. "Feliciano!"
As the other nation restarted his punishing rhythm, only one thought remained in Ludwig's beleaguered, lust-crazed mind...
"... why?"
Feliciano, his head burrowed into Ludwig's bruised neck, gave a drowsy, "Che?"
"Why...?" Did I just get gefickt, in my own office? By Italien? FOUR TIMES?
Feliciano yawned. "France-nii-san said you definitely wouldn't forget me if I did the fucking with you, which makes sense."
The German considered this. "How does that make any sense?"
The Italian smiled sleepily. "No girl ever forgets it when I do her."
"...Gott."
"You won't, will you?" The Italian lited his head abruptly, his eyes suddenly wide and fearful. "You'll always remember me, and won't leave me behind when you become friends with Russia?"
Ludwig stared incredulously up at him. "Frankreich and Russland? What the Họ̈lle do either of them have to do with-- with this?"
The Italian's lower lip trembled. "You won't, will you?"
Ludwig tried to sit up and Feliciano braced himself over him on his hands, pushing him back. "I promise I'll be faithful," he said with rushed eager earnestness. "I won't do the fucking with anyone but you, not even the most beautiful girls. Not even that market girl or the one on the motorbike yesterday or--!"
"Stop. Talking," Ludwig ordered with quite the last of his patience.
"Doitsuuuuuuuu! Don't leave me!" Feliciano wailed, grabbing for his knees and shoving them to his shoulders. "We need to do it harder!"
"Ouch! Was zum Teufel? STEIG VON MI-!"
"Che? You want it from the back? Va bene~!"
Author Note:
I love uke!Germany. I love making any supposed seme play uke to his supposed uke. (That made sense... right?)
Translations (in order of appearance, and holy shit there are a lot of them):
l'amour, physical - physical love
tellement stupide - so stupid
Accouplement. Ça-va ça-vient. Comme- - Coupling. In-and-out. Like-
giusto - right/correct
mon petit - my little
Si - Yes
Tranne - but
La principe - the principle
il est nécessaire - it is necessary
Grazie infinite - Thanks so much
l'Allemande - Germany
Italien? - Italy?
Frankreich - France
Accidenti - Damn
Mein Gott im Himmel-! - My God in Heaven-!
Gott, Gott...! - God, God...!
Verdammt! - Damn it!
pistolino - little pistol. Hmmm, what could that possibly refer to?
Carino! - Cute!
Ti voglio tanto... - I want you so much/I love you so much...
Come adorabile! - How adorable!
War-warte! - Wai-Wait!
Sei troppo sexy, sai? - You're too sexy, you know?
No, no, caro, amante - no, no, dear, love
va bene? - okay?
buono - good
Russland? - Russia
Họ̈lle - Hell
Was zum Teufel? STEIG SIE VON MI-! - What the hell? GET OFF OF ME-!
Caro mio - my dear/love/etc
Tesoruccio - literally, my cute little treasure
Amore - lovah
Che? - what?
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