On the Other Side of the Pillow | By : mykonosparadise Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 4761 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia: Axis Powers nor any characters from the series. I don't make money on the fiction. |
A/N: Have you ever listened to The Hardest of Hearts by Florence + The Machine? I think the song fits this story perfectly. You’ll know what I mean if you see the lyrics. You can find it on Youtube easily if you wish.
- Chapter 4 -
It was a summer day.
A dull, warm day in the summer, and Ludwig was leaning on an elegant barrier in the garden, observing the people that were swarming all over the place. His tranquil look lingered on the gentle contrast between the green of the gardens and the severity of the surrounding buildings. The sound of hoofs clicking against hard solid caught his attention and pulled him out of his musings.
Gilbert has been meandering through the park on a horse, but as soon as he spotted Ludwig, he came riding towards him. The Prussian followed a curving path flanked with flower-beds when a row of high Leyland cypress trees suddenly obscured Ludwig’s view for a few moments, though as the horse emerged again, he strode down the grand staircase to welcome him.
The black Friesian stallion carried himself with elegance while Gilbert was sitting up straight and proud, slightly lifting his weight out of the saddle, thrusting his hips forward in rhythm of the trot.
Ludwig had to look away. The image was too tempting.
“Don’t loiter there!” Gilbert called as he accosted his brother. He pulled the reins and stopped the horse steps away from the younger nation. The black stallion nickered and shook its head in greeting, and Ludwig drew nearer to stroke his strong neck with a blooming smile. His hand stayed there for a brief moment.
“Come, let’s ride together.”
Ludwig glanced up. “Poor horse.”
The Prussian gave a laugh and swung his leg over the horse’s rump, dropping on the ground with expertise.
“This beauty here can carry a knight in armor.” He assured, “You’re not heavy, just hop on and ride.”
“Very well. But only as far as the lake, and no further.” Ludwig demanded, but his brother was already crouched on one knee, keeping the other lifted square. He used Gilbert’s knee as a boost and climbed up onto the horse.
A second later and the Prussian was seated behind him. He was tall and strong enough to lift himself up alone. Ludwig felt a pang of stinging joy at being so close to him.
If Gilbert would only mount him like he mounted that horse.
Ludwig felt his heart leap warmly in his throat at the obscene thought. He clenched his fists and perceived the manner in which Gilbert was sitting—thighs flush against his own, arms wrapped around his sides as he reached for the reins. Gilbert took the bridles, watching how the scudding clouds made way for the sun, a smile tugging on his lips while the sunlight played on Ludwig’s golden hair.
There was something intimate in the way Gilbert’s chest was pressed against his back, in the way he was breathing into his ear. Their bodies were as though glued and Ludwig made a puny attempt at creating a little bit of space between them, but his brother kept scooting nearer.
“To the lake, it is!” The horse responded to the light squeeze of Gilbert’s legs and started a steady walk.
If anyone thought that horse-riding has nothing erotic to it − this was a very wrong assumption. While they were cantering over the paved roads, Gilbert kept his rear just slightly off the horse’s back like a horseman ought to do, but he rocked forward and backward all the while, nearly temping Ludwig to grind back against him. Searing desire was gushing through Ludwig; lust was prickling every inch of his young body.
It was about a mile of this torment before they reached the lake at last.
Gilbert pulled on the reins, making the stallion halt beside the pond of water. The picaresque view and striking contrast of summer colors distracted Ludwig long enough to miss how his brother nudged the horse lightly and headed towards the peaceful green of the water. It occurred to Ludwig then that something was amiss.
“Gilbert?” He asked, puzzled. He expected an answer after the Friesian’s hooves disappeared under the surface and water swallowed the horse’s front legs, but his brother wasn’t disposed to make any. The Prussian gave an amused chuckle and smiled archly behind him, playful and mischievous.
He encouraged the stallion to go further into the lake.
“Brother! Why are you riding him into the water?” A look of dismay crept over Ludwig's face while he protested—the water has already reached their boots. Undaunted, Gilbert wasn’t stopping with whatever he has intended to do.
“Gilbert, enough! Make him turn around!” Ludwig rather begged than ordered. He’s finally come to understand what Gilbert’s stratagem was.
His brother wouldn’t listen though.
“If you go in any further I’ll—“
“You will what?” Gilbert guffawed ecstatically behind him, guiding the horse into the lake. When the blond felt the animal go even deeper, cold water biting the Friesian’s legs and soaking into his own beige breeches, he began to squirm and grind back against the older nation with the intention of preventing the water from reaching any higher, but in vain. He never realized how his dogged struggle and wriggling aroused Gilbert whose laughter ceased.
Ludwig lost all hope of saving the rest of his clothes after the horse found the water a great source of amusement and flipped its nose on the surface of the lake, splashing both riders.
The damage was done; it was no use crying over spilled milk.
Drenched entirely in sunlight and water from the waist down, Ludwig repined about his condition. He gave a piteous whine and plunged his hand into the water, between his legs, only to discover that, indeed, he was having an erection.
“I hate you, Gilbert… I hate you…” He trailed off woefully and leaned forward to press his flushed cheek against the Friesian’s strong neck. There wasn’t a scintilla of truth in his words. He rested his cheek there while his brother led the horse back to the shoreline, petting the horse to keep himself in line.
“No. No you don’t.“ Gilbert retorted lightheartedly.
“I hate you…” The younger nation gripped the Friesian’s thick mane with his fingers while he muttered himself calm.
“Oh, come now, Ludwig, don’t exaggerate.” Gilbert wound his arms around Ludwig’s waist and pulled him up again, flush against his chest. Ludwig’s heart leaped into his throat for the second time that day. Only a wet layer of clothes was now separating him from Gilbert’s body, cruelly reminding him of his taut skin, his flawless body, his smooth lips.
He chalked this up as another one of his misfortunes.
To Ludwig’s disadvantage or dissatisfaction, Gilbert started a light trot and headed back.
There couldn’t be much to the palace, Ludwig hoped while they rode. But there was.
* * *
Drizzle rained down on Ludwig's rankled heart.
The rain fell stronger. It was pouring on his very soul.
After the slack period following his last secret visit, the nights seem to stretch to infinity. Confusion and somber mood of his bedroom kept him awake until dawn.
Bereft of sleep, at the mercy of guilt, Ludwig opened his eyes to force away his crying shame, but no sooner had his blue eyes adjusted to the dull darkness of the room, he saw the other side of the pillow—lonely and unoccupied.
He regarded the cushion for a long time; the sight of it awakened memories of his brother.
He had only half a bottle. Half, not even a full one. It was enough for lying beside Gilbert—but this was everything he had. There was not a single bottle of bromide left in the palace. He alone couldn't have someone buy bromide for him without prescription, and no one would give out the amount of quantities he needed to a single consumer. He was trapped. Once again.
If he used it now, he would be barehanded.
Wrapped tightly in his feather covers, Ludwig felt like a poor wretch lost in a desert − wavering, unsure whether he should drink up his last drops. And he was dehydrated, the sun was burning his skin, the heat was melting his hopes. What if there was no oasis hiding behind the dune that stretched out before him? What if these were indeed his last drops—shouldn't he use it wisely?
His fingers toyed with the soft fabric of his pillow, summoning up memory after memory.
If he could only look at him, touch his chest. A tender touch of his lips and nothing more. Just one kiss. Then another.
He lost himself in the want of his brother.
His breathing quickened, his desire was growing.
He would never want anyone else the way he wanted Gilbert. He would never touch another nation without thinking of his brother.
If Gilbert could only know how much he loved him, how desperate he was to have him.
He felt his breath catch in his lungs when he realized he was touching himself. He ended his ill-starred ministrations with a lazy stroke over his chest, angry at himself.
He was condemned to want what he didn’t have, and not accept any less. To persistently yearn for something bigger than he should or was allowed to. He had bitten off more than he could chew.
Heavens, wasn’t there anything to help him just the slightest bit? His back was breaking under the weight. Could he do something to shake off the guilt and put his mind to a rest? To bare his soul and pour his heart out? He was barely keeping his head above the water.
Still, he was being punished less than his sin has deserved. Could Fate possibly have mercy in storage for him?
Ludwig lay in his bed, a forlorn look on his face. He was slowly eaten up by guilt and remorse. It was too late.
It had been too late months ago. He couldn’t make amends now.
A demanding task was set before him, but he had yet to accept the fact that Prussia and Germany could not be one, that some barriers between them could never be washed away.
To Be Continued…
A/N: Ludwig is about to get in trouble soon...
My beta and I have been busy these days, but I’m sure you’re tired of hearing excuses. That being said - two or three more chapters await you, depending on where I decide to split the chapters…
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