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Love Is An Unverified Rumor	By : mykonosparadise Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1608 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers. I make no money on writing fiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Title: Love Is An Unverified Rumor (3/4)
Warning for this chapter: France, long chapter, 6 pages of smut. nuff said.
- Chapter Three -
It was on that famous, cold January morning of 1871 when Wilhelm was crowned Emperor of Germany in France, and everything was very formal, solemn and stately. It completely overwhelmed the young blond who tried to keep his head and remain unruffled as hundreds of eyes were upon him in the famous Hall of Mirrors.
Apparently, he did his job well.
Watching the scene in front of him while Wilhelm was being crowned, he stood straight, dressed to match Versailles itself and please the eye − magnificent and pompous.
His own coronation took place later, in a church.
Next to him, in that uniform of his, Prussia leaned in slightly in an attempt to encourage him.
"You are about to be crowned, formally proclaimed an Empire, married to me, and you look as calm as a millpond."
"I'm glad I appear so." Ludwig gave him a quick side-glance, keeping his movements at a minimum. Sensing his tenseness, Gilbert decided to intervene again.
"Isn't it cold?" He started babbling, "If there's anything I hate, then it's winter. Feel my hands. They are always like that except in summer." He closed his fingers around Ludwig's limp hand and gave him a squeeze, but coldness was the last thing the blond felt in that moment. It was warm. So incredibly warm, he thought he was melting under the heavy layers of fabric.
The strong tones of the organ brought him out of the daze forcefully, reminding him of his duty.
Only minutes later, as he stood still before the priest and the loud forte changed into al niente, the powerful tone of the instrument kept echoing in his ears like a tinnitus. The crown put on his head made him inwardly sink under the weight of great responsibilities and expectations placed upon him.
And while the rest of the rites turned out to be even more arduous for Ludwig, it only meant more fatigue for Gilbert who was bored to death. Until Bismarck showed up and took the place beside him, that is.
"Do you remember when I told you that Germany will adore you?" The Prime Minister was not even looking at him. Gilbert wondered what he was driving at.
"Well, I adore Germany too."
"He is quite good-looking, don't you think?" The Iron Chancellor* suggested after a long pause.
"Indeed." Gilbert answered dryly.
"An apple right for plucking." Bismarck's pun made him visibly sneer. The Chancellor's shameful suggestion gave him a sick and squeamish feeling all of a sudden.
"I am not obliged to listen to your advice. And besides," He added, not leaving the man much space for opposition."I am still displeased that you denied me a triumphal march into Vienna, Bismarck."
The prime minister merely smiled at that.
"If you mistrust my good intents you judge amiss, I'm afraid. Modesty and generosity are the keys to success. Humiliating Austria would only cause the creation of an implacable rival." **
Prussia gave a noncommittal grunt in return, not making clear if he agreed or disapproved of Bismarck's answer.
The rest of the day proved to be even more tedious than the coronation itself.
A banquet was to be held and Germany found a distant corner where he stood with a glass of champagne in his hand, eagerly wanting to camouflage himself and blend into the rich environment while he quietly waited for yet another event to begin.
Prussia was nowhere to be found and he decided to observe the others in the meantime in order to pass the time.
Across him stood France with a glass of fine red wine in his hand. The older nation sent him lecherous looks more than once that day, even winked a couple of times, but he knew better than to make fuss over France's coquetry. It was nothing scandalous, considering Francis displayed the same behavior in front of numerous people, be it humans or nations, attendants or statesmen, men or women. Germany was no expert in subtle language, but even he could clearly see that the man had a glass too many.
He could hardly blame him.
Ludwig felt immensely sorry for Francis for some obscure reason and he longed to say something or simply pat him on the shoulder comfortingly, but, naturally, decided against it.
As if on cue France glanced over at him and immediately noticed his gaze. With a somewhat suspicious-looking smile, he started walking towards his direction and Ludwig cursed inwardly, knowing France would ensnare him into some obnoxious conversation.
"Bonjour, Allemagne." France greeted as he came up to him, "Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" ***
Ludwig did not even have time to answer.
"And? Has la Prusse done his duty yet?" One arm now slung around his shoulders, Francis leaned in improperly close to his face. He spoke in a deep, slightly hoarse yet pleasant voice, though his words were everything else but pleasant.
"I beg your pardon?" Ludwig failed to create some space between them as France kept inching nearer.
"Has our dear Prussia taken your virginity yet?" He whispered out this time with an amused chuckle. Forthright and indecent − not what Germany expected from France.
Stunned by the words, he tried to wriggle out of France's clutch, but the man spoke again.
"If not, I would like to do so myself…" The Frenchman said without so much as a blush, "I trust my bluntness does not offend you, Allemagne."
It was the last straw for Germany. The table has been set and he used it as an excuse to separate himself, successfully this time, and so left the blond nation without a word. He hurried to take his seat and forget about France's demeaning offers, not aware that it was only a foreshadowing of what was about to happen that night.
Ludwig tapped on his half-finished glass lightly, trapped in boredom once again and looked around the spacious room.
This time, France seemed to be busy glaring daggers at Prussia in antipathy.
Prussia, on the other side, was talking a great deal. The dinner appeared to be a perfect opportunity for the display of his unrivalled anecdotal powers and inexhaustible mother-wit. Germany didn't know if he really liked that volubility of his, but since he was not directly involved in the conversation he leisurely ignored it.
The dessert in front of him remained uneaten and he never uttered a single word during the whole meal, now inattentively observing the volutes of tobacco smoke as they rotated softly above the long table. People were chatting, lively discussions were led.
At one point, a wave of whispers started to flutter around the room. He felt people's eyes on himself. Certainly, some kind of rumor was being spread. It was not that he wasn't used to residents of the palace in Berlin prattling about him, but in the present circumstances, and while surrounded by Frenchmen, he could only shift in his chair uncomfortably. Even Gilbert wasn't as loud as before.
He looked in his direction just in time to see how Bismarck tapped on Gilbert's shoulder discretely and whispered something to him. He was not able to understand, they were far away, but what he could do is observe them closely.
The conversation was short. Gilbert's interlocutor returned to feasting, as good-humored as ever. He noted how the platinum-blond put down knife and fork and stayed as though paralyzed for few seconds, scarlet eyes unmoving, gaze fixated at some random point on the table. Anguish was written all over his pale features − an unusual contrast to all expressions Ludwig had seen that day on his face. When he finally lifted his gaze, the blond knew who he would search for.
Scarlet met cerulean blue.
Prussia wavered for a moment or two, then sent him a smile.
Ludwig didn't recognize a single thing from it. It was only a small, sad smile, and Ludwig knew right there and then, whatever worries assailed Gilbert he was a part of it too.
The platinum-blond finished his meal in silence and the more unusually he behaved, the more Ludwig's fear intensified. He did not even notice one of Wilhelm's ministers standing beside him.
"How do you feel about the approaching unification?"
The voice startled him slightly and he looked up at the man, confused.
"Approaching?"
The man gave a curt nod and the corners of his mouth rose in a smile.
"Can you throw some light onto the matter of subject, please?" The blond queried. There was something quite ominous about that smile.
"Oh… of course. As you will no doubt have heard, the unification is not fulfilled until the final physical act has taken place."
Ludwig felt a pang of terror.
"I…" He felt light-headed all of a sudden, "I was not… aware—"
His informant smiled ignorantly once again.
"Well, in any case, a group of chosen people will be sent to see to it." He bowed a little, "Good night."
Before he could reply the minister was gone.
In the ensuing situation, he could only sit there and remain unflagging from the outside, taking it with his usual poise. Inwardly, however, he was alarmed. His stomach tightened desperately, and he felt nausea at the back of his throat.
The whole thing has been planned from the outset, only he was not aware. Why didn't anyone give him a book about this before? Why didn't anyone bother to tell him about this?
There was a wide range of themes he knew about a bit more than the people thought he knew. But he was the kind of person who thought all romantic books and novels connected to this topic were trashy and never consulted them. Now he wished he had.
There were suddenly too many people. Too many faces and gazes on him, too much information and celebration.
He was not ready for this.
He had a faint idea about that thing called defloration − a word that almost made him gag − and it unleashed a cascade of horrors. Pain, shame, discomfort, humiliation. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had a rather stereotyped image about the 'consummation of marriage' and it unsettled him, gave him a nasty buzzing in the head on top of everything.
It was not only his thoughts and concepts about this issue that bothered him. Ludwig wasn't particularly willing to lose his virginity − another hideous word − mentally unprepared, and especially not in front of their audience.
The emotions were clashing.
Bismarck first recommended his scheme about the unification to Wilhelm, and Ludwig knew that nobody was more deeply interested in it or more fervently anxious for its success than the emperor. And since Wilhelm was the one who insisted on this, he could not bring himself to protest simply because not following the Kaiser's advices would be extremely unwise. Pleasing his first emperor was of crucial importance to him, but the whole event perplexed him at the same time.
He was set under pressure he could not cope with.
Ludwig called for one of the waiters who were racing about with heavy trays through the palace dining-rooms to refill his glass and drank the alcohol eagerly, trying to remain calm.
Hours after the dinner, Prussia found himself restlessly pacing the halls of Versailles, not far away from the room where he suspected Germany already waited for him, his thoughts probably a mess as well.
Suddenly, he felt tired and miserable.
He still had to go to the king for 'a talk', and he was not looking forward to it either. Gilbert did not want to jeopardize the relationship he had with the blond or betray his trust. This could turn out to be a problem.
"Gilbert? What a surprise meeting you here."
He turned to the source of the voice and there stood France. The last one he wanted to see now. He did not miss Francis' odd behavior today.
Gilbert purposely avoided acknowledging him.
"You look more happy than usual, my dear Gilbert. I think I have never seen you in such a light-hearted mood before." The involuntary host smiled at him malevolently. The two of them were at loggerhead ever since Antonio offered his throne to Gilbert, but Francis was being downright rude right now. There was something not quite natural in his demeanor. ****
"Uncanny." Gilbert offered flatly.
"It crossed my mind − maybe little Allemagne is the reason of your… bonheur, oui?"***** It was funny how the Frenchman expressed his bitter revolt against him in such a sweet fashion.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps kicking your sorry ass gave me the pleasure. You will never know." He retaliated with matching passion.
Francis' half-smile did not reach his blue eyes.
"Well I think you have a very important task to do, non?"
"I had not the vaguest inkling you care so much." The platinum-blond said with tacit hostility. There was no reason to lose his temper now.
Francis gave a vague shrug.
"Either way, someone is going to break a pure German heart tonight…"
Before Gilbert could find his words, Francis carried on.
"And I know who won't—I mean, good luck, mon ami." The faked slip of tongue only contributed to the German's pent up anger. He knew Francis' hospitality has been a sham all along.
The climactic argument led to the outcome which seemed inevitable − a complete rupture of friendship between the two powerful nations.
"Pray be seated, Prussia." Wilhelm said, courteously waving him into a leather armchair near his desk. The nation offered a polite smile but remained standing.
He waited for further instructions in silence and observed the king. He was a mild old gentleman with fat chops connected to his white moustache that Gilbert always found interesting and he actually liked him. Now more than ever he hoped the man would prove himself as good. Never before was he afraid to receive an order. He feared that sexual intercourse with Ludwig would not be the summation of their joy and love but the price the blond must pay for the unification.
"Your duty tonight will be to physically unify with Germany." Straight to the point, no chit-chat.
He had already braced himself for the worst. Still, the words shook him to the core.
"Are you serious?"
"I cannot think of a reason why I would joke about it." Wilhelm's voice was perfectly calm.
But the tension in the room was palpable.
"No." It was a flat-out refusal.
"Prussia," The king began patiently, "that was not a plea, I'm afraid."
"Your Majesty," The stubborn nation answered, "You are asking me to do something impossible."
"Why, dear Prussia, I thought you loved the boy?"
"Quite so." He assured wholeheartedly, "As a matter of fact, there is nothing else I would rather do than unite with Germany — in every aspect of its meaning — if I thought I had the moral right to do so."
"What makes you think you do not?"
"It would make me appear as a child molester." Prussia said, being baulked by the thought. His honor was at stake, how couldn't they see.
"Germany is not a child." Bismarck, who was there all along, butted in and Gilbert gave him a dangerous glare. Right then he understood, the whole affair was being orchestrated primarily by him, Wilhelm was merely following Bismarck's advice.
"A rapist then." He forced out through his teeth.
"As far as we could observe, the boy is quite in love with you. Perhaps you were not cognizant of it."
"That may be so, but still—"
"My dear Prussia," the king interrupted, suddenly veering, "You know I do not like to harp on the subject, so let me tell you − this is a public display of unity, not a dalliance of love."
Thus, the conversation was over.
Twelve people, one blond nation, a cold fireplace, silence.
This greeted Prussia as he stepped into the bedroom, feeling guilt for having postponed his arrival, leaving Ludwig in a state of hazy confusion for too long.
"Gilbert?" Germany asked tentatively, wishing he could speak to the man he was addressing only. The presence of other people disturbed him immensely.
The Prussian spared him a quick glance where he sat on the bed and sighed, deeply and audibly, before he shrugged the coat off his shoulders. He merely had the intention of making himself more comfortable in mind, but the gesture caused Ludwig's heart to miss a beat in suspense, interpreting it as a bad omen. On tenterhooks, he swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched two maids step up to Prussia and take the garment obediently.
"Gilbert?" He tried again, but in vain.
Said man stood as though glued to the place for quite some time, staring at the parquet floor pensively. It was hard to tell whether he really was in deep thoughts or simply standing there for the sake of it.
After a while, Gilbert looked about, scanning the room, trying to recognize each one of the people present as well as take in their surroundings.
"Will you not speak to me?" Ludwig inquired, overwhelmed with urgency and anxiety.
They shared a look.
"I apologize. Ludwig." Gilbert's voice had an uncharacteristic soft tone, undoubtedly surprising most of the occupants.
As he walked past them to get closer to the large bed, the people bowed deeply, uncovering respectfully to their nation. They appeared distant and uninterested on the first look, but both knew they had eyes like a hawk.
Scarlet eyes fell onto a gilded tablet on the night-table, stowed with various objects, most of them they didn't need.
They did need one particular however.
He reached for a bottle of oil before he pulled the surrounding bed curtains close, providing some intimacy and shielding them from curious gazes. Following Germany's suit, he sank down into the feather-bed and mused for few quiet moments.
"What happened? Were you with the Kaiser? What did his Majesty want?" The younger blond spoke in a whisper.
"Question after question…" The platinum-blond shook his head in false reprove, smile adorning his pale features. He lay down onto the mattress.
"Well?" The blonde urged again after a minute of silence during which Gilbert has folded the hands on his chest, now looking at the canopy above them absently.
Ludwig grew impatient. The lack of response unnerved him.
"I was with the Kaiser indeed. And I was given an order − one that applies to both of us." He patted the spot beside him and Ludwig mimicked, lying down next to the older nation in a familiar manner, their shoulders touching.
"How so?"
Gilbert gave a short, humorless laugh.
"We are supposed to present 'public unity'. Quite literally as it seems." No further explanations were given, for Gilbert knew that the words were crystal clear to the blond.
He rolled onto his side all of a sudden and lifted himself, hovering over the younger male. Ludwig observed him quietly for some time, but the panic in the blue eyes could not be concealed.
"Is this necessary?" The blond whispered out. Suspecting that he sounded rather frightened than malcontent, he tried to appeal on Gilbert's own feelings of pride and prerogative. "We will allow them to order us around in this way? We will blindly follow the orders irrespective of our own wishes?"
"Bismarck is one smug bastard, but he knows what he's saying." Gilbert cupped Ludwig's cheek, thumb sliding over the ivory skin, marveling the softness quietly. "Be that as it may, you must know that I would never—"
He interrupted himself abruptly, his movements ceased at the same time.
"—I won't force you to something you do not want, Ludwig."
Probably more effective than anything else that could have helped, after all the pressure and anxieties the unification brought, the words worked like a solace, lifting a great weight off his chest. Eyes closing on their own, he leaned into the cold palm in gratefulness. The physical and mental relief coupled with Gilbert's own joy at Ludwig's display of affection coursed through them in a warm rush as if their bodies were fused.
Few moments passed before one of them broke the silence.
"However…"
Gilbert's warm breath ghosted over Ludwig's chin and lips, startling him as he did not notice the other man leaning in so closely. Fortunately, the alcohol from earlier dulled his reflexes and had him lightly dazed, otherwise this little incident would have ended in an ugly clash of heads.
"… I need you to help me. We do have to deceive our little audience here." He nicked to the side, referring to the attendants and officers standing around their bed, patiently waiting for an affirmation that the 'unification' has been performed. Germany would have glanced to where the nation above him was pointing, but he was too affected by the warm breath that caused his heart to race and the sudden intimacy his chest to hurt from the swoop of excitement. Their lips were almost touching.
"What am I to do?" Ludwig asked in curiosity and mild confusion.
"Kiss me."
That was all?
Germany blinked at the simplicity of it. Though, somehow he doubted a kiss would be everything required from him.
Nevertheless, he lifted his hands off the mattress, wound them up around Gilbert's neck and licked his lips briefly before closing the short distance.
And there was it again — that deep sound of content in the back of Gilbert's throat as they kissed. It pleased Ludwig. It gave him the feeling of dominance he knew was justified — only he was able to affect this powerful nation in such a way.
Tongues met, exploring curiously, playing in some strange kind of slow passion.
The younger blond dared as much as to tangle his fingers into the platinum strands, massaging the man's scalp while his tongue did the same to Gilbert's own, but with ebullient devotion now.
That same sound escaped him again, causing Ludwig to smile into their kiss in response. In a couple of skillful movements, Gilbert succeeded in spreading the blonde's legs and settling between them comfortably, weight on his knees. It provided more balance than before and made it possible for him to move his hands as he pleased. A fact he generously exploited as he let the hands wander freely over Ludwig's sides in a tantalizing pace, manhood twitching upon realization that only a thin layer of fabric was separating him from the warm skin beneath.
The blonde's fingers returned to his neck and the grip increased, made their kiss even deeper while Gilbert's hands continued to explore, petting, sliding up to skim over Ludwig's ribs and then down again teasingly. Until a particular action brought Ludwig out of his daze, that is.
Gilbert had the courage to go lower, fingers in hold of the hem of his sleepwear, twisted in the soft cloth, pulling it up in order to expose the rest of his body, thighs being already naked due to their pose. He broke the kiss and released his neck, set out to remove Gilbert's hands from his hips and away from his nightgown, but the man shushed him before he even uttered anything, leaving him with his mouth open and an inquisitive gaze.
"From now on, the only sound you're allowed to make is a moan. Do you understand?" Gilbert whispered into his ear.
Ludwig didn't understand.
The older one didn't seem to care. He gently bit the blonde's the ear, giving it an experimental lick, curious to see Ludwig's reaction. He didn't seem to be very vocal, which he actually didn't mind, but it could be a disadvantage in this case, unless Ludwig was a good actor. Something Gilbert highly doubted.
The teen's thoughts still lingered on his words though.
"Wait…" He said in the lowest whisper, turning his head to meet Gilbert's gaze, "What do you mean?"
The older male sighed through his nose, then nudged Ludwig's cheek lightly, making him re-turn his head before locking their lips in another kiss. Short and more aggressive this time, biting the blonde's lower lip and giving it a tug with his teeth.
"I mean that we are currently trying to make fools out of those fools outside by making them think we're making love. Show more effort, brat." He bit the soft lip again, seemingly in a threat, but Ludwig knew he was only pretending.
He scoffed after they broke apart, his dissatisfaction thinly veiled.
Gilbert gave a low groan and lifted himself, taking off his shirt in the process.
"There." He mouthed and threw it aside. Pale skin glowed under dim light of the candles that managed to make its way through the little gaps of the drapes. Ludwig always knew Prussia was in an excellent shape, even under all those uniforms. Blue eyes traveled down the naked chest in interest, stopping on the scars, then going lower, over the taut and strong abdomen and pelvis before settling on the platinum-blonde's breeches.
"Oh, for heaven's sake…" Gilbert huffed out and unbuttoned them, making no show out of it as he pushed the beige cloth down and got rid of the trousers entirely in few quick movements.
With his legs still spread so that the nightgown barely managed to hide his most intimate parts, Ludwig watched the scarlet-eyed man return to his previous place, on his knees again, with a full-developed erection and a lascivious smirk tugging at his lips.
It was no five meters, by all means, but Gilbert was well endowed.
And what a magnificent and gorgeous manhood it was, almost—
Ludwig shut his eyes close in an attempt to stop the current train of thoughts. It was no good, he was already half-hard and a little tent was starting to grow beneath his nightgown.
A hand settled on his thigh, bringing him back to reality. He forgot − it was his turn now.
"Lift your hips a little."
Why, Ludwig didn't have a clue. But he did as was ordered to him.
Gilbert helped and lifted him further with his strong hands. With a startle, Ludwig realized that the man freed him completely from the nightgown in two energetic movements, leaving his body nude, and he instantly closed his legs. The older nation smirked at this.
"Sorry to be blunt, but you'll have to spread your legs for me." He tapped the blonde's knee lightly in emphasis.
Ludwig was reluctant at first, but opened up again after few seconds, his chest heaving in pleasant anticipation. His lip almost trembled and he bit the tender flesh, feeling ashamed.
Gilbert reached for that bottle and poured a small amount of the oil into his palm clumsily, though not out of nervousness. He was careless by nature.
"Wait—be careful. It'll stain the sheets." Ludwig warned as few dews of lubricant dropped from his hand.
"Oh, the horror." Gilbert dismissed the protests and poured some more out. Ludwig immediately squirmed at the sight and the platinum-blond looked up at him.
"Stop being so fussy."
He might be concerned with trivial details, but he was supposed to sleep in this bed tonight, his objections were only justified.
Gilbert brought his thoughts to a halt again as his fingers traced the warm skin of his inner thigh slowly, making him gasp inaudibly.
"Don't be afraid." He whispered and planted a small kiss on his knee. His other hand closed around Ludwig's half-hard member, slicking it with the oil, stroking him slowly.
The blonde tensed up and closed his eyes but gave a sigh of pleasure nevertheless.
Gilbert slickened his own manhood in the meantime.
"Ludwig." He called as he admired the nude adolescent below him. He drew his body nearer, the blonde's thighs were propped by his own now.
The blonde heard him and looked up, blue half-lidded eyes filled with lust.
"Touch me." Gilbert asked huskily and guided the blonde's hand towards his own erection.
Aroused, with a mix of genuine curiosity, Ludwig gingerly took Prussia's member into his hand, feeling him pulsing under his grip. It was not that he was diffident; he simply thought he lacked the knowledge and skill to return the pleasure.
Ridiculously helpless in these matters, he mimicked Gilbert's own rhythm and stroked back. It pleased him to see that the man seemed to enjoy his touches and movements; he could hear how their sighs rose steadily. Gilbert's grip increased cautiously and he had to stop for a moment, too overwhelmed by the sensation; his hand slid to the base of Gilbert's member where he felt the fuzz of white, fine hairs and his fingers lingered there for few moments.
Then everything stopped abruptly.
Gilbert released him and removed the blonde's hand from his own erection, bringing Ludwig out of daze. His thighs were spread further by the platinum-blond who lay down, pressing their naked bodies together, eager to show the younger one that sexual satisfaction could be reached through means other than penetration.
As their members came in contact for the first time Germany jerked his hips up − a reflexive action in response to the intense sensation − and gave a wanton moan.
That was good. Probably the first sound the people outside heard until now.
Gilbert rolled his hips experimentally again, but could not bring the blonde to repeat it. He did not fail in pleasuring him though − Ludwig reciprocated zealously, chest heaving again in excitement.
Realizing that he won't let out another moan anytime soon, Gilbert stopped for a moment and enjoyed in the proximity, reveling in the feel of skin against skin, leaned heavily on his forearms flat on the mattress and tucked under Ludwig's shoulders.
He closed his eyes briefly and moved against the body underneath him in a quick sliding motion, hard and throbbing, releasing a low purr when Ludwig's hips moved in sync with his own. The younger blonde pulled him down and claimed his lips, coaxing him into a mute duet.
Being still inexperienced in this, the blond tried to do his best to emulate the other's movements and follow his rhythm. When they broke apart he spoke in the same lush voice the older nation was using before.
"Gilbert… more…"
Grinding against each other enthusiastically, both of them panting now, they built up a steady pace. And while Ludwig was clutching desperately at his back as their hard erections and bodies rubbed against each other, Prussia caressed the blonde's body passionately, moving smoothly over the glistening skin, in quest for erogenous zones. Much to his own surprise, he was successful. As his fingers carelessly slid over his crotch, over the soft and warm skin that was now slick with oil, his pressure increased and created an unplanned effect. With a tender moan Ludwig melted against his own body and spread his legs even more, if possible, to give him better access. Gilbert brought his hand into a better position and massaged along the groin line with his thumb. The results were tremendous.
Getting Ludwig to make such exquisite noises was quite a coup.
He raised himself, never stopping with the energetic movements, eager to observe and manipulate the newly-acquired information. Applying more pressure as he traced the erogenous zone, he increased his pace at the same time and watched Ludwig who arched just a little bit, eyes closed, features twisted in pleasure, pants coming erratically through rosy lips.
Infatuated by the sight, his lust enhanced so rapidly he thought he would lose control any moment.
His member pulsed dangerously, tempted by the erotic image, patience almost non-existent.
How much he needed to fuck someone right now.
For few short moments he struggled with the desire to break his promise and go all the way.
He was sorry to admit that the better man won.
He would only bungle everything badly, it was not worth it. He did not want the sighs of pleasure to turn into moans of pain and this thought helped him get a grip of himself. Lowering his body down again, he embraced Ludwig tightly. With his mouth parted, he traced the blonde's jaw line with his lips before changing his course towards the neck. There he sunk his teeth mercilessly into the delicate skin without any warning. Not an innocent nip or playful bite. His canines pierced through the skin, drawing blood. Although a tiny part of him that was possessive patted him on the shoulder proudly, his intention was not to mark or claim the blonde, especially not in such a barbaric manner, but to intentionally trick the people outside.
Not long after a cry of pain tore from Ludwig's throat, a number of people left the bedroom.
With watery eyes, Ludwig muttered a little 'ow' and gave him a look, mix of bewilderment and hurt. Gilbert showered the abused place with pecks.
"Sorry. I had to."
With much gusto he went on with his movements, grinding down until both were panting anew, lost in passion. The people outside stopped to matter after some time and they were alone. Members were rubbing, skin slick with sweat and oil, breaths mingling, until Gilbert bent down to connect their lips again. After Ludwig's brain finally started to register things properly he realized that Prussia is not simply kissing him but making love to his mouth.
The younger nation wound his arms around his neck again, not staying there, traveling lower, over his strong defined back and enjoyed in Gilbert's powerful body. His fingers dug into the platinum-blonde's shoulders, damp with sweat, drawing lines with his nails as he felt a nice, warm sensation forming in his southern regions, the beginnings of an orgasm. He left marks where he could, then settled at the small of Gilbert's back, even lower, urging him to go harder.
The older blond obediently listened to him and increased his effort, and the friction became sublime. He could only buck up against the Gilbert's body, craving more contact, more of everything. It felt perfect. He didn't want to be separated from him, never. Gilbert's kiss became deeper, tasting him so intimately, so beautifully, he couldn't even breathe properly from desire.
He was almost there, he felt it − the warmness was searing hotness now as his muscles tightened − but he hated to think that it will end soon. He wanted to continue forever like this, in Gilbert's arms, being showered with kisses again as the orgasm approached quickly. To show that he was not troubled by the presence of the attendants who were still left, though he longed for them to leave, he tightened his grip on Gilbert and breathed into his ear, intentionally, somehow knowing it would spur him on. He did not make a mistake − Gilbert increased his pace, panting through his nose, listening to how the breaths turned into low whimpers just before the blond under him came with a steal-grip on his body and it triggered his own orgasm.
Only few more feverish thrusting movements led him unerringly towards the imminent goal and pulled him into a fierce climax.
While Gilbert rode out the aftershocks of physical bliss, Ludwig let go of him and collapsed onto the mattress as the first gentle waves of afterglow made him feel faint and he leaned into the pillow, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric languidly.
After Gilbert lay beside him, he shrugged himself deeper into his embrace, close against his chest, and inhaled his familiar scent, everything else forgotten.
They stayed like that for an unknown length of time, just basking in the warmth of each other's body, finally alone.
To Be Continued...

NOTES:
* After Bismarck made a statement in 1862 which would become notorious, "blood and iron" became a popular nickname for his policies.
** William I and his Generals wanted a triumphal march into Austria's capital after Prussia's triumph in the Seven Weeks' War (1866), but Bismarck insisted on generous terms of peace.
*** "Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" - "What's the matter?"
**** The tension between France and Prussia peaked in 1870, when the Spanish Parliament offered its throne, vacant since 1868, to a member of the Catholic branch of the House of Hohenzollern, whose Protestant head was the King of Prussia.
***** Bonheur - happiness
A/N: ffffffffffff- my last exam is tomorrow! Wish me luck, guys! Next chapter in January, and with a full lemon next time ohonhonhon~
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