Ludwig is hardly expecting a peaceful day; Feliciano comes over most of the time, now, and stays for lunch, dinner, supper (because Ludwig just doesn't eat enough, apparently), a midnight snack, and breakfast, and he does not expect today to be any different.

He has a few bits of work to do; mostly governmental proposals to look over, and make notes on, and one or two things he has already read, and now just has to sign, and he has a phone call with Spain regarding air safety checks at half-past four, but all of this together will not take him more than about two hours; so really, the day is his.

He supposes that the sensible thing to do would be to get his paperwork out of the way before his little Italian love – er, friend bounces into his office, knocking over books and stacks of paper and labelled pots of pens and pencils, disrupting the rhythmic flow of getting one's work done (Feliciano doesn't understand the importance of things like this), and so he does it, as quickly as he can, because he got up almost twenty minutes late this morning, which simply will not do, and is expecting the little Italian to come bursting into his home at any moment now.

Feliciano fails him on this expectation.

At about eleven, Aster and Blackie and Berlitz begin to whine and scratch at the door, and, having finished pretty much all his work (save for the phone call, of course), Ludwig decides to take his pets for a walk. They leap up at him in excitement, tails wagging madly the second he emerges into the hallway, reminding him strongly of a certain someone he knows very well, and he is still chuckling to himself as he locks the front door, and makes his way down the road, three panting canines straining at their leashes.

Briefly, he wonders whether or not he should have left without waiting for Feliciano to arrive – he loves the "doggies" too, after all; but on reflection, he thinks this way may be for the best. Feliciano is not very strong, and would, Ludwig knows, struggle to hold on to even Aster, the oldest and calmest of his dogs. He has no desire to see any of his pets hit by a car today.

They walk for about thirty minutes – around the block, cutting through a park where Blackie chases a family of geese and is bitten for his fun – and back up to his house, and Ludwig is not at all surprised to find his front door unlocked.

It is probably Feliciano, he knows. Of course, theoretically, it could be his brother, but Gilbert has been spending more and more time at Roderich's house lately, and anyhow, Ludwig just...knows that it is Feliciano. He always does.

The dogs begin to bark with excitement when he opens the door; no doubt catching the visitor's scent, and recognizing it as being that fun young man who always brought them treats, and let them eat "people food," and played with them in the garden until the stars came out, and he had to come in for hot chocolate and a cuddle...

Ludwig shakes his head, and presses his cold hands to his cheeks which, for some peculiar reason, have turned bright red, hangs his coat and the dogs' leashes up, and ventures further into the house.

It is quiet, but he is sure he can hear somebody moving about upstairs...

He heads for the staircase. The dogs try to follow him, but he sternly sends them back down into the kitchen. Aster flops into his bed; the other two sit side-by-side in the doorway, their heads close together.

"Feliciano?" he calls.

No response.

"Feli?" he tries again. "Italien?"

Nothing.

One more try. He reaches the top of the staircase. "Feli, Blackie and Berlitz are doing that cute thing you like again..."

There is no cry of joy, and no snigger of "Kesesesesesesesese!" so it is safe to assume that neither Feliciano or Gilbert are the ones in the house with him.

So that means...

Ludwig freezes.

Who is it, a few feet and a couple of walls away? Roderich? Not likely. Lovino? No! Kiku? Of course not. The Japanese man would never invite himself into another's house. That was more of a Feliciano thing.

Yes; it has to be Feliciano.

"Feli!" He tries one more time, turning the corner as he starts forwards again, opening the door to his bedroom. The silly fool is probably asleep, he thinks. Outrageous.

He pushes the door open, and steps into the room.

And stops.

"Oh – hello, Ludwig!"

It is indeed Feliciano; though for a few seconds, his mind is assaulted with fuzzy memories of dreams and – real memories, are they? – of a young brunette in a green and white maid's outfit smiling up at him. He blinks hard, and tries in vain to catch his breath.

"F-Feliciano?" His face feels very red again.

"Ve!" Feliciano beams up at him, cheerful to the last. "Of course! I told you I'd be coming today!"

He didn't.

Ludwig struggles. "Wh- what are you...Feli, what..." Words completely fail him.

Feliciano, his lovely, innocent, child-like Feliciano, is knelt upright before Ludwig's closet; the closet he has, time and time again asked his friend not to look into. Spread out on the carpeted floor before him are – oh Gott – several pairs of handcuffs, a few lengths of rope, a large, shiny, black piece of fabric which Ludwig immediately recognised as a blindfold, a riding crop, a roll of black bondage tape, several different types of gags, a pair of leather gloves, and two whips.

"Playing," is Feliciano's answer.

He doesn't seem embarrassed at all. Not in the slightest.

"B-but...but you...you...but...I...y-you..."

"Ve..." Feliciano looks up at him, over one slender shoulder in confusion. "Ve...oh!" His eyes light up in sudden comprehension. "Oh, sorry Ludwig! I didn't mean to get them all out at once. I remember grandpa used to tell me off for doing that, and Mr Austria even more, but Hungary didn't mind. Ve, she's nice, isn't she?"

Ludwig blinks.

"I will put them away, I promise! I'm just looking...ve..." he adds, whilst Ludwig can do nothing but stand and gawp, "What's this thing do?"

He turns around again, fully this time, holding something up in his hand – and Ludwig very nearly passes out.

He is wearing a short white dress, trimmed with green and black lace and satin, with matching stockings – Scheiße, that skirt is so damned short Ludwig can see the tops of the legwear – and...oh, Gottverdammt. Feliciano isn't wearing matching...matching...underwear, is he? Ludwig's throat and mouth suddenly feel very dry indeed.

"Ve..." Feliciano peers anxiously up at him from the floor. "Are you okay, Ludwig? You look kind of funny...maybe you should sit down, ve?"

He does not sit, but falls back onto his bed. The room feels strangely deprived of oxygen, and his body is already suffering the effects. Feliciano seems oddly unaffected.

"I didn't know you rode horsies," he is saying happily, holding up the riding crop. Ludwig's hands ball into fists in the duvet. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Er...er..."

He needs to get out; go downstairs, outside, get some fresh air, have something to eat and drink, lie down, take a nap...

He needs to go to the bathroom and jerk off.

"Owie!" Feliciano has struck his own palm with the crop, leaving a bright red mark on that lightly bronzed skin. "Ve...I hope you don't hit your horsies hard with this thing, Ludi." He frowns at the other man, and it is so cute, yet so arousing, Ludwig finds himself unable to hold back the strangled moan that rises up through his chest and into his throat.

"Ooh, Ludwig, you really don't sound good at all. Do you want some pasta?"

"No, thank you," he manages to croak out. "No...no pasta, Feli..."

"Oh...okay!" Feliciano shrugs, waves the crop in the air inconsequentially, and skips back towards the pile of things on the floor. He bends down to examine the next...toy. Ludwig nearly faints. He is wearing underwear to match that damned dress.

"What do these do?"

"Feli..." he says, before he takes what's left of his sanity and goes to live in a cave somewhere far, far away, "Feli...why...why are you wearing...that...that d-dress?"

"Ve?" Feliciano looks down at himself, almost surprised, as if he had forgotten that it was there, hanging about his slender, lovely figure...

Ludwig swallows, hard.

"Oh, well, I was talking to Hungary the other day, after I left yours, and I was telling her about how I had to leave early because you had so much work to do. I said I wished I could help you, because we never get to spend much time together these days, and you're always so busy, and it makes you grumpy, and then it makes me sad, and then we can't make love, and then she thought for a bit, and guess what? She said that she had an idea!"

Ludwig trembled. He could see exactly where this was going.

"She said that I could probably help you out, and make you happy if I helped a bit around the house like I used to back when I was tiny! At Mr Austria's house, I mean...so she helped me pick out a nice maid outfit, like I used to wear, so that my ordinary clothes don't get dirty, 'cause I know you don't like my clothes to get dirty, like when we take the doggies for walks, and I jump into puddles with them, and then you yell at me...well, I don't like that, and neither do you, so that's why I'm wearing a maid outfit." He smiles, as though his reasoning makes perfect sense.

"B-but...the closet..."

"Ve, well, when I got here, you were out, so I couldn't ask you where I should start cleaning, so I rang Hungary, and she said that maybe I should start in your bedroom, because then, if your bedroom's nice and tidy, you'd want to spend more time in there. I think she means you don't get enough sleep, and I –" He trails off, his eyes slowly, so slowly widening in understanding. "Ohhh! Ohhh! I get it!" He giggles, pressing his hands to his face.

Ludwig makes a small noise somewhere between a squeak, and an exasperated sigh.

"But your bedroom was very neat anyway, so I looked under the bed, and in the drawers, and the only place I could find that wasn't perfect was here! In this closet! And I know you said I'm not meant to look in here, so I tried tidying with my eyes shut tight, like this –" Feliciano mimes sorting through boxes in mid-air, "but that was kind of tricky, so I opened my eyes, and then I got a bit curious, and..." his lower lip trembles, and suddenly he flings himself into Ludwig's lap, instantly and inexplicably bawling his eyes out. "I'm sorry, Ludwig! I'm sorry, I swear! I didn't mean to disobey you! Ve! Please, please, please forgive me!"

"Er..."

It is intensely awkward, having Feliciano wrapped around him so firmly like he is right now. He can see the soft round shape of his upper thighs in that space between the hem of the dress, and the intricate, lacy stocking tops. The nape of his neck, too, looks positively delectable, and so is the way his small hands tug at Ludwig's shirt, and squeeze his skin and muscles tightly enough to leave bruises – and that, is a very, very arousing mental image indeed – and, to top it all off, he can feel the little Italian's warm, half-hard erection pressing against his own through the soft material of the dress.

It would appear that he is not the only one who finds whips and riding crops, and other toys hidden away inside closets so intensely fascinating.

They have had sex a few – several – many, many times already, but Ludwig has never tried anything with his lover that is not completely, one hundred per cent (ninety percent, perhaps) vanilla. Those toys are there – just in case really, and he has often dreamed of bringing them up with Feliciano, but he doesn't quite know how. He is, he supposes dismally, just as repressed as his brother accuses him of being.

Feliciano moves his head from where it is lodged at the other's stomach, eyes full of fear and hope, and – they flicker towards the riding crop.

"Ve...Ludwig...you're...y-you're not going to...beat me, are you?" he whispers.

That idea is tempting...sorely tempting...but then he looks back at his lover, on his knees above him, in that sinful little dress, and he pictures him holding that crop...

"Ve...Ludi?" Feliciano looks at him, eyes wide and more than a little confused.

"You look beautiful, Schätzchen" he says suddenly; hoarsely, and a deep blush spreads across his cheeks.

Feliciano blinks down at him, momentarily thrown by Ludwig's sudden, loving compliment – then he smiles.

Ludwig did not know his sweet little Feli could smile like that.

"You think I'm pretty?"

Am embarrassed pause.

"J-ja."

"Ve! You like me like this?"

"I...I do. A...a lot."

Feliciano beams, and settles himself comfortably into Ludwig's lap. He casts a wry glance downwards. "I can tell," he says, and dissolves into giggles. He shifts again, and the dress rides up a little further...not quite enough, though.

"Kiss me," Feliciano commands suddenly, and Germany does as he is told. Heat slowly builds in his chest, his stomach, his groin, and he desperately crashes his mouth to the other man's.

"Ludi?" Feliciano whispers into the kiss, and Ludwig reluctantly pulls back.

Feliciano is grinning. "Let's play a game," he says.