Greetings and salutations, readers.
First story on my new account. Not re-posting stories yet. But anyway, here is some Gerita fluff. Because gerita is truest, cannon love. :D
Love it sweet.
I hummed as I stirred the contents of the pot, the sugary cream swirling and browning and exuding the most lustrous scent I've ever had the pleasure to encounter. I turned off the element and stoped stirring, the wooden spoon ribbons molten candy when I withdrew, dribbling and rippling the thick glossy surface of the caramel. I tapped it on the edge before popping it in my mouth, sticky toffee taste hinting at vanilla and singed with the faintest bitter hue. Delicious.
"Mmm?" I took the spoon out of my mouth and cast it into the sink.
"What are you doing?"
Germany had just showered, blonde hair wet and clinging to his face, broad firm body shiny and steaming, a towel wrapped modestly around his waist. He seemed tired. Working hard lately, hardly sleeping. Today was his first day off in a while and it was fortunate that because not even my finest triple hazelnut espressos were enough to keep him going anymore, when work weighed heavy on those delicious smooth skin shoulders.
"Caramel gelato. Want to help?" I rubbed the corner of my lip in thought, trying to remember which freezer I had put the vanilla base in. the one by the pantry, right? God, this kitchen had too many fridges and freezers. Plenty of pantries and food though. And the heated terracotta tile floor he had reminded me of home.
"Not really. It's a little cold for that, don't you think?" he gestured out the window, beyond which a sleet of grey rain pelted from the heavens. The sound was bass and relaxing, inspiring winter cosiness in my chest.
"Not in here its not." In truth, with the heating and the heavy scent of sickly caramel, it was almost too hot. "Come on, Ludwig. It'll be fun!"
"Not right now Italia. Just clean up your mess when you're done, okay?"
I could tell by his expression he was thinking of last time, when, okay, I admit, I had been too damn excited about my tiramisu to do the dishes.
"Ve, Ludwig. Have a little faith in me, yes?"
One blonde eyebrow arched, I ignored it and ducked into the freezer. The cold prickled the skin on my arms and yes, there it was, the dish of white desert, peaked in creamy mountains and glistening in the fluro fridge light. I withdrew it and pushed the door of the freezer shut.
"I do have faith in you Feli, perhaps against my best interests." He padded past me to the sink, opening the cupboard and withdrawing a tumbler. "Just be sensible, okay?"
"Okey doke." I lifted the pot and tipped a large amount of the mixture, glooping and thick and good, straight into the cold dish. It melted valleys and rivers, steaming and bursting with a scent so full I could taste it. Cold from the base filmed the surface, I grabbed a spatula from the draw and began folding it into a mixture, turning the white gelato into creamy golden brown, swirling it with streaks and veins of heaven. His hand ruffled my hair affectionately.
"And bring me some when you're done. That smells delectable."
I popped the mixed gelato into the freezer and ran my finger around the rim of the dish to catch any drips.
Humming softly to myself, I began packing up the kitchen. Most of the stuff went into the dishwasher, no problem, but when I got to the pot of semi cooled caramel sitting on the oven, I wasn't sure exactly what to do. I had made too much, and it seemed such a waste to just throw it away.
I sighed and dipped my finger in the mixture. It was still lusciously warm, and just runny enough. Rippled and rich and absolutely heavenly.
Outside, it began to rain harder.
I decided I would leave the caramel there for now, and go get changed out of the clothes I wore. Somehow, whenever I cooked, I managed to get food all over me. My jeans were spattered with butter and milk, my shirt cuffs stained with vanilla essence.
"Ludwig," I told him when I walked past the sitting room. "There's some caramel in the pot on the stove, if you want."
"Did you clean up your mess?" he looked up from the book he was reading, sprawled on the couch in a fluffy robe and wrapped tight in a faux mink blanket. His hair was still uncombed, and he seemed relaxed. I liked that. I really did.
"Ve, of course, I'm just going to get changed."
"Okay. Thank you Ita."
He returned his attention to his book.
Upon arriving upstairs, I decided to, like him, go with casual dress and not bother with pants. I had a really old shirt of his; it hung down to my thighs and could be considered modest. I pulled it on and checked in the mirror. It smelt faintly of his laundry soap, lilacs and lavender, and although it was long fit quite snugly around my waist. England had taken it in for me, saying that such a large unfitted thing was unbecoming, it drowned me out, and it hid all my best aspects. I didn't complain, I kind of liked the way it ruffled at my hips and folded neatly along my sides.
Germany had the pot of caramel on the coffee table when I got downstairs, he didn't notice me poke my head around the door, being much to busy reading, sucking a silver spoon dipped in candy and being generally cute.
"Taste okay?" I asked, and he jumped, dropping the spoon. It landed on his robe, sticking to the cottony fluff and leaving a mark.
"Shit Italy, you gave me a fright!" he frowned and sat up a little straighter in his seat. "And yeah, it tastes great."
"Good, I'm glad." I sauntered in and plucked the spoon from his chest, swirling it in the pot and withdrawing a large dollop. "Open wide." I smiled and offered him the spoon, pressing the edge to his lips. His clear blue eyes crossed slightly as he focused on the spoon, confusion on his face.
"What, no Italy! I'm not having you feed me!"
"But Ludwig has been so busy lately." I simpered, sitting on the coffee table "he needs to relax and let me pamper him, okay?"
"Shhh…" I pressed the spoon a little more insistently. "Let me be sweet to you. Please? You're so kind and patient and lovely and I want to thank you properly for everything you've done."
"By force feeding me warm caramel?"
I thought on that for a moment.
Surprised by my response, he set the novel he was reading down on his lap, eyes locking with mine. I smiled, trying to convey to him how darling he looked in that moment. Like a little boy.
"Come on." I nudged the spoon again and watched, delighted, when he gave in. his 'giving in' expression is one I am very much used to. A faint scowl, pink cheeks, and then a reluctant performance of whatever it is I desire him to do. Romano says that I have him wound around my pinky finger… but I pretend not to know this. Germany likes his dignity and I think he's a little embarrassed about the whole thing.
He took the spoon into his mouth and sucked it, eyes closed, cheeks still stained a faint bone-china pink. My smile grew wider and his cute-factor tripled. I popped the spoon out of his mouth and he turned his face away.
"Okay, you've fed me. You can go now."
"But Ludwig, there's still another four or five spoonfuls left."
A pained line creased his brow, his eyes asked for mercy. I thrust out my bottom lip and he groaned.
"Ludwig…" I dipped the spoon again. This dollop was not as big but a little stiffer. It was cooling now.
"Do I have to?"
I nodded solemnly and he conceded.
I watched him distantly at first, placing between us a certain… degree of separation. Call it the friendship barrier, call it a wall of respect. Whatever it's called, it was the line that had often been a blurry and indistinct separation of emotional attachment and physical attraction, breached many times and ever changing, but still tangibly there and probably best adhered to. I observed his lips, pink and thin and finely shaped, his handsome face relaxed and blushed rosy, his tongue lapping at the spoon and sucking softly at caramel candy.
A string of spit, suspended between his lips and the spoon when I pulled it away. He saw it too and licked his lips hurriedly, breaking the connection off.
"Ita-mph!" I slipped the next spoonful into his complaining mouth, heartbeat speeding up just a little when his eyes slid shut and he seized my wrist, holding steady so he could get all the stickiness off in one go.
He released the spoon with a pop and I scraped the last potion of caramel out, accidently dripping some down my wrist. He leant forward and took the spoon on his own accord, lavishing it with his tongue. I shuffled around a little and tucked my hair behind my ear, kind of hot.
"Is that it?" he murmured, pushing the clean spoon away. I nodded and he sat back in his seat again, picking up his book. "Well, it was quite nice. I suppose." He licked his thumb and started flicking through pages. "Now please Feli, I'm trying to read."
Well that wasn't fair!
The spoon tinked in the pot when I dropped it, I squirmed uncomfortably where I sat. Sweat was beginning to prickle the back of my neck and well frankly, the way he was sitting, robe slipping slightly and giving me a glimpse of that chest of his, was a bit of a lead on. A cruel one, actually.
It was making me feel… kind of amorous.
Come to think of it, since the winter influx of paperwork, Germany really hasn't had much time for me at all, let alone an evening in which we could make love. Not that we were lovers. We weren't. We were just friends who engaged in really intimate and emotional sex. Usually. It was one of those 'blurry line' things again.
But not in the bitter grey cold of winter, he hadn't touched me.
How had I not noticed!
Almost a month and a half had passed since he had kissed me, even on the cheek. I hadn't paid attention, in truth, because despite this he still let me sleep in his arms and he still embraced me often.
However, sexually, my life had been a desert for about six weeks.
That wasn't very nice at all.
It was a wonder I wasn't spread all over his face.
"Ve, Ludwig?" it was my turn to be embarrassed. I reached for his knee beneath the blanket, already feeling arousal tingle the base of my spine.
"I, uh…" how to say this so he wouldn't get all clammed up and distant? Unlike kissing and hugging, which he was comfortable with by now, sex wasn't something we had ever discussed sharing. It usually just happened in bed. In the dark. In the silence between cotton sheets that would never tell anyone. I suppose it was the kind of something we had both silently agreed breached the line and we didn't need to talk about it.
"Shouldn't you go check on whatever it is you are making?" he flicked the page of his book in agitation. I bit my lip. How do I say this… how do I get him going? Usually a hand down his underwear does it. But no underwear and no darkness cover. I dipped my finger in the pot, running it around the sides to glean a few dribbles I'd missed with the spoon. There was still a bit, actually, stuck to the bottom and rim.
He peered at me as I sucked on my finger as best I could, trying to get the idea across.
No luck, he blinked and narrowed his eyes.
"What are you doing?"
Exasperated, I dropped my hand and sigh dramatically.
"Ludwig…" I whined, kicking the sofa softly and trying not to meet his eyes. "Come on!"
"What? What's wrong?"
Bordering on tears now, I shifted some more. I was hard like rock candy, and melting like ice cream inside. It was so hot…
"Germany… I'm horny."
His eyes widened noticeably, embarrassment flooding his cheeks, his head snapped up.
"I'm, um, horny."
And neither of us knew what to say.
It was kind of awkward, actually. Kind of really awkward. After sitting there for about two minutes staring at my knees, hands fisted in my lap, the tick of the clock on the mantle about twenty times to loud, it was to much.
"Well, I guess I will go then."
I stood and hurried from the room. Back to the kitchen, utterly humiliated. What had I been thinking? How could I even have said such a thing out loud? Was I an idiot? His blank, shocked face had… well, it had hurt. And I was still… that way. And God he had looked at me like I was some kind of disgusting thing the cat had dragged in.
Holding back tears I wrenched open the freezer and seized the fresh dish of gelato. Pudding solved everything. All I needed was to cool off, and surely a binge of cold gelato would help. And afterward I would take Ludwig a bowl and apologise. And all would be well.
I grabbed a tablespoon from the drawer by the sink and thunked the dish on the counter, digging a huge lump out and shoving it all into my mouth.
It didn't help, so I took another, larger spoon. The gelato was good. Better than good. Orgasmicly sweet and still soft, dribbling over my lips. Ripples of sweet caramel trickled down my chin; I wiped it away and carried on eating. And with each chilling spoonful a shiver tingled down my spine. The hairs on my arms prickled. It so, so wasn't helping. I-
"Ah!" I jumped and dropped the spoon when I felt them, two powerful arms wrapping around my waist, a kiss pressed hungrily to the side of my neck. It clattered to the ground, skidding across tiles and clinking metallically. My hands flew forward and I grabbed the edge of the counter before me, struggling to calm my frantic heartbeat, gasping a little as something soft and demanding pressed at my jaw, kisses all the way up my neck.
"Shh… Italia. Relax…" one of his hands slid up my body, caressing my jaw and tilting my face back to his. "Just… kiss me for a while, ja?"
Breathlessness, that clean invigorating spirit of being utterly swept away, I closed my eyes and surrendered to a kiss so gentle it ached. He squeezed my waist gently with one arm, traced my throat with his hand. His lips tasted of caramel and honey. And he smelled like Germany. Like a cold bottle of bear, like stone warmed by the sun, and more unusually, like pomegranates and passionfruit…
"You've been using my shampoo." I murmured, smiling against his lips. "It smells good."
"It reminds me of you."
I giggled and reached behind me, to pull his face back to mine. "Ve~ you are so sweet when you want to be."
He let me kiss him for a little while longer. Light, wet, velvet lips melting mine kindly, the fingertips on my throat travelling down my front leisurely, then back up over ripples of cotton to slip open a button or two just below my ribs. His body was warm. So scrumptiously warm, mellifluous kisses soaking through me to my very core.
"Ve~ Germany. Can we move?"
"Mmm." His hand, dipping ever so slightly into my shirt, teased skin. A few light pinches, the hush of his breath against my cheek. "Bedroom okay with you?"
"Fine!" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was much too airy and betrayed the leap in my stomach that the thought of making love to Germany in the daylight in his bedroom caused. "Yes, yes that's fine."
With a soft sigh, a rustle of cloth, he released me and awareness of the faint sheen of sweat on my face, and how cold it was without him draped around me, made me shiver.
"Did you want me to put away this first?" he swiped a finger through the dish of gelato I had, until that point, forgotten about. I rubbed my collarbone, considering his question, feeling a little dizzy. What was wrong with me? For some inexplicable reason, anxiousness was champagneing in my gut, fizzing and squirming and bubbling to an odd lightness in my breast. Fluttery, excited… my lips inflamed and my skin burning for his hands.
"We don't want it to melt."
He spoke softly, almost to himself, and picked up the dish, carrying it to the freezer. Watching him walk, wide eyed, hardly believing that he wasn't paying attention to me, I felt my knees shake. I gripped the bench once more.
"w-what about me Ludwig?"
"hm?" he looked over his shoulder as he opened the freezer door.
"let me melt… please."
And before I had a chance to draw a breath he was back on me, kissing me fiercely, heating me up all over again.
Don't own the rights to hetalia or anything like.