trying something not my usual today. that is, BDSM of a sort etc. *shrug*
i dont own hetalia or the characters.
"Milk please. I can't reach." Feliciano held out his glass and I took it from his hand. "And could you put some ice in it this time?"
"Ice? In milk?"
I frowned, but obliged, setting the vessel down on the small wrought iron table and reaching for the jug of milk in front of me.
Damp grass tickled my ankles; dew sparkled in the verdant mid morning sun. I breathed the sweet scent of spring in deeply, tasting the cool freshness, enjoying the caress of a silky breeze on my skin. Luncheon in my garden… so beautiful.
Him, dressed in fine white cotton, skin glowing with a ethereal radiance completely at home here in the lush, misty morning. His auburn hair shone, beautiful and rich, pouring across his shoulders, swept neatly off a fine featured face. Beyond beautiful.
I set down the frosty jug of milk, reaching for some ice cubes sparkling in the silver bucket by the marmelade, and dropped a few into his glass where they cobwebbed and clinked, bobbing on the surface.
"Ta-da." I passed the drink over and pulled my thin green cardigan back up over my shoulders. It was soft, slipping down my arms easily, and the sleeves were much too long. Once again, the neckline slid and I pulled a face. Fluffy knit really wasn't my thing, but he had made it for me special, and I didn't have the heart to say no.
"It's a beautiful day…" he raised his eyes to the sky, drawing his legs to his chest and resting his heals on the edge of the chair. I smiled serenely and nursed my glass of apple juice.
"Ja… so peaceful. Its not often I get peace."
"Hm." He scratched his arm, and I noticed that he had faint bruises on his wrists. They were lilac and feathery beneath almost transparent skin. His soft smile was breathtaking; it prickled the hair on the back of my neck, tingling on the back of my tongue like the syrupy juice glittering in my glass.
And suspended in the serenity, the secret we shared was clutched in silence between us. A naughty secret, the sort a child would whisper behind guarded hands, it bound us tightly, wound around us with discreet pleasance and left us tangled between sheets on a Sunday morning with only blurry memories of the previous night, and the faint sour flavour of schnapps lingering at the back of our palettes.
"How do you feel?"
"A little sore…" I His lips twisted into a wry grin, peeking at me coyly from beneath pretty bangs. "How about you?"
"I feel great."
"Hmm… that's good."
His pink tongue flicked his upper lip briefly and he rested his chin on his knees. The slither of the chain bearing my iron cross around his neck was reminiscent of the shush of bare feet in the grass.
The zing of apple juice had never tasted so good.
"Too late, Feliciano." I stroked a finger down his spine. The rolling meadow of flesh between fanning shoulder blades sunk into a sweet valley there, following the contours of his form and rising again into the hill of his beautiful little ass. He whined weakly, struggling against the tight restraints applied to his wrists and one thigh, the angle at which his leg was bent looked unnatural and sent one hip jutting out obviously. The free leg stuck oddly to the side of the bed, so as to allow him to kneel up on the crippled and folded limb. He was lowered into painful splits, fixed in place by shining sliver buckles and supple white leather. I adjusted my snowy Schirmmütze, pushing a lock of hair that had escaped back underneath.
"How do you feel?" my fingers ghosted the clasp of the belt on his thigh, lips running the stretched length of his neck. His hair tickled my cheek and his breathing caught, loud and heavy. He stumbled some words out, but they were incomprehensible. I slipped my hand up from the belt and let it rest just below the junction of hip and thigh.
"If I hurt you, you know what to say right?"
He nodded. I smiled.
Confident now, assured and excited, I removed my hand and pushed him forward. With a shocked yell he tumbled face down into the bed, the feather comforter fomped, the sheets rustled. His cuffed hands caught him just in time.
"Good. I'm going to start now, okay?"
Again, he nodded, face down in the bed.
The form of his body, crumpled forward at the waist and completely exposed, was angular and unfamiliar. Sharp bones jutting smoothly beneath pale silk skin. Dips of muscle and rising chords tensed and knotting limb to limb, his trembling slight and delicate. I thought briefly how he looked like glass, the faint sheen of sweat across his skin shining and glimmering, I envied the lacy elegance with which he held himself even like this. Envied it, hungered for it. A crisp flavour tingled at the back of my tongue. Anticipation left me salivating a little for the tang of his flesh.
I rubbed his ass softly and reached across the bed to my side table, where the bottle of Berentzen was waiting. My hand was steady, the bottle was cool.
Summery and fresh. The smell of the drink when I opened the bottle was strongly alcoholic and tangy; it burned the back of my nose.
"Arch your back a little more." I told him, resting my hand on the small of his back. "Push yourself up on your hands."
He was shaky, but he managed. His shoulders raised achingly, back curved to an inhuman extreme, creating a perfect bowl above his tailbone. Slowly, I tipped the bottle, watching the liquid inside trickle forth and drizzle onto his skin. He hissed at the cool. My lip twitched and I tipped the bottle even more, spilling a large amount into his back and watching numbly as it overflowed, curving over his ass and darkening the cloth of his pale green shorties, spilling along the side of his torso.
"L-Ludwig it's cold!"
"I know." I set the bottle down and leaned forward to kiss the end of his tailbone. The skin was cooled and glistened wetly. "Relax, just relax." My lips moved higher, breath rippling the surface of the limpid pool of schnapps on his body. I remembered him and in a moment of consideration I moved a hand between his legs and inside the leg hole of his underwear, taking his semi hard cock in my hand and stroking. Patiently, eyes flickering shut so as to focus on the sound of his breath, I sipped the puddle on his body and let the taste sip under my skin. Cool, refreshing and dizzying. He moaned deeply, tensing even further. And my senses flooded with brilliance unfamiliar, zapping me all the way down my spine.
The tree trunk was broad, marred with the stubs of limbs cut early, propping heavy branches the girth of my waist above the height of a man. The rustling canopy of leaves had radius of which was several metres wide, the height of which was envied by the house alongside it. Sunlight poured through the opaque green filaments suspended majestically in lush blooms along each twig, through the web of tree the view of sky above was patchy but the colour flawless.
He lowered himself onto the swing attached to one thick limb high above me, slender hands gripping the rough rope by which it swung.
"You should push me." his smile was bright and unblemished, he kicked his legs excitedly, and the bough creaked. I brushed his hair off his forehead, caught in the beauty of his rarely wide eyes, the live, fertile energy he exuded.
"If Austria catches us on his swing, it was your idea."
"It was my idea." He giggled, tipping his head to the side.
I slipped my shoes off and tiptoed over, avoiding the small white daisies blossoming in the grass. The shivering shade of the tree was cool and pleasant, he shuffled excitedly as I placed my palms flat on his shoulders and gave him a soft push forward.
"Yes, yes, hang on." I rolled up the sleeves of the cardy and rubbed his back a little. "Isn't that seat sore?"
"No, of course not." He let his head fall back. "Hurry up and push me."
I rolled my eyes and obliged.
Italia is light, as though his bones are avian. I feel he may break beneath my hands or maybe fly forth, his shoulder blades splitting and birthing spanning wings in an explosion of feathers and glitter if I push him too high. But I know that if I do not he will complain. Higher, or faster, or harder.
So I pushed him as gently as I could get away with. Pressing him forward at the small of his back, cautious. I wouldn't want to hurt him again.
The swing groaned and I relented, reducing the power behind the thrust just a bit. It was enough to make him whine though.
"Ludwig… push harder."
"I don't want to, it might break and then what?"
"It won't break!"
"But if it does. I don't want you to get hurt." I glanced at the rope tying the swing to the tree, anxious. He groaned in irritation and kicked his legs out for extra thrust.
"Hey!" I jumped back when he swung backward and almost knocked me over. "Watch out! And don't swing so high."
"Ve, I will be fine." He told me, bending his knees and lunging into the next swing. "Why are you so nervous?"
"I haven't seen anyone use this for years, Feli. The rope could be rotted or-"
"Oh shush, I'm fine, look." And to prove his point, he flung those endless legs out and soared higher than he had yet. The branch on which he was suspended complained, the leaves trembling, and my heart leapt to my chest.
"Okay, okay Feliciano, I believe you. Can you get off now?"
"Ve, no… silly Ludwig, I'm just starting to have fun!"
I rubbed my chin, trying to calm the hammering in my chest. I could see it in my mind, the rope fraying and snapping in slow-motion, his small body falling and crumpling on the grass beneath. I could hear him scream in pain and sit up shakily with tears tracking his cheeks and a swollen, oddly angled leg jutting beneath him. I could even feel his fingers clawing at my shirt, accusing brown eyes drilling into my own brimming with glistening agony.
"Please, Feli, stop swinging. I will take you inside and run you a nice bath. You haven't showered this morning right?"
He turned his head to look at me, still swinging ambitiously high.
Creak, creak, creak
"… A bath?"
"Yeah, with bubbles, how you like it. And because it's so beautiful we can open the sliding doors and you can look out over the garden. Sound good?"
His brow creased. "Will you bathe with me?"
"Ja, of course." I cringed, with an excited 'Veee~' he leapt from the swing. My heart stopped for a moment, but he landed neatly, daintily, a few metres away. I hurried over, hitching up my sweater again.
"Heh." He smiled and carded his fingers through his hair. "Ludwig, your cheeks are so pink." When he reached a hand put to touch, I seized it, crushing his fingers to my lips.
"You are a horror." I murmured, dully aware of the swing still swinging behind us. "You do as I say next time when I say it. I-"
I was cut of by a dull thunk. It resounded horrifyingly in my mind. He seemed surprised, turning to study the lank of wood, the seat of the swing, now lying on the ground beneath a set of dangling ropes.
"Uh oh." He mused. "Austria is not going to be happy…"
The bridge of Feliciano's body was firm and dramatic, arching elegantly off the mattress, most of his weight on bare shoulders. One leg bent over and still fixed by the white girdle, the other splayed and extended fully while a single free hand made use of itself between his thighs. I didn't pay him much attention, to busy fixing the cuff on his other wrist to the brass bed head.
"Ahhh…" I settled back and glanced to him briefly, the awkward contortion of his body didn't bother me in the least. "relax."
"Ngh…" a pained expression twisted his features, I nuzzled his exposed throat, breathing over prickled skin, the sharp smell of alcohol intoxicating me.
"You look incredible right now."
"Only on you." I slicked my tongue down his throat to his chest. The skin was soft and velveteen with sweat, his nipples perked sharp and as unyielding as glass beneath my lips. They tasted distinctly sweet. "You can stop that now." I ran my hand along his busy arm. From the hollow of his elbow to the wrist of a fragile hand. Finger dipped knuckle deep inside his own body slipped out easily and twisted from my grip to tug his underwear a little lower, catching on the belted leg and stretching to unholy lengths. He growled in frustration. I smiled, indulging myself, scraping my teeth gently around the edge of his nipple and sucking the sensitive skin just below, hard enough to leave a budding bruise in my wake.
The hand wetted with saliva and pre-cum with which he had been fingering himself fell to the mattress to support his bridged body, I ran the flat of both my palms up his waist and over his front, rising up on my knees as my kisses migrated down his body but lifted in altitude to the sharp peak of his ribcage. The sweep down from there over a smooth, taught stomach was luxurious. He moaned, rattling the chain trapping his one wrist against the metal post. I pinched him sharply to silence, the action sending a naughty thrill all through me. Within my chest, a monster was stirring. That green eyed creature that crouched possessively on all that was youthful and tender and fresh, the creature with the curling lip, who's claws extended on reflex to see a body bound so submissively, so flawlessly disgraced. Lust and dominance, the beast in my chest was hammering against a bone cage and begging for release, to rape the grace from his body until he was mulched and drowned in sin.
Sour and malicious, I embraced the emerald beast and groped for the half full bottle of schnapps on my side table. The scent seemed much more powerful now my senses were an animals, the taste blinding. It glistened temptingly running over twitching thighs and wetting fine masses of dark hair between them. It pooled in his navel, before overflowing. As I dragged the mouth of the bottle up his body to the height at which he bent, I heard the choking splutter that meant it was flowing down his chest now too, onto his pretty face and into his gasping mouth.
There wasn't much left now, I dropped the bottle and it bounced on the mattress, not spilling. The remaining liquid was not level enough with the horizontal neck to trickle forth.
I moved between his legs and lowered my self, so his dripping erection was all I could see. His tip was not yet fully exposed, which was normal for him, and so with gentleness despite the hungry burning hormones crippling my mind, I eased it forth. His soft moan was of pain, and my lust faltered. I always felt bad for him in those moments, especially when I could see him claw the sheets out of the corner of my eye, but I knew it couldn't be helped. In apology, I ghosted my breath over the newly exposed part of him. It was much to sensitive for me to kiss or lick or touch, breath instead seemed to calm him. I sucked him gently, avoiding his head, licking and focusing instead on the moans and groans, the out-of-action leg beneath him shaking and threatening to give way.
His skin tasted tangy, like schnapps.
I dug my nails into him and brought out my teeth.
The door clicked in its latch, I let the curtains fall back into place. The fluttered lazily in the breeze, skimming the heated tile floor of my bathroom.
"Ve~ Ludwig I'm getting in now."
"Do as you like." I combed my hair, letting it fall from the neat combed style I wore out of habit and letting it get in my eyes.
"You said you would get in with me."
"I will." I assured him, still gazing out of the open doors to the lush, neatly manicured lawn outside. The rosebushes along the hedge were blooming. Pretty white ones. I wondered if I should pick a few for him, it seemed like the sort of soppy thing that would make him happy, but I decided against it. Roderich's roses. He was already going to be furious about the swing, so perhaps doing so would not be such a wise decision.
"Well hurry up then." The splashing lapping sound when he got in was lewd. I sighed and removed my cardigan and singlet, exposing my back. My trousers followed and trying to hide my blush, I hurried over to the clawfoot tub, deep and brimming with suds. They were apple scented. How apt. In a perverted, ironic way.
I tried to ignore the angry bruising on his shoulder, no doubt caused by an unnaturally twisted arm, and the cruel red bite marks on his chest.
The water was warm, but somehow cool too. Pleasant, swirling with natural oils, refreshing and agreeable. He crawled forward and brought a cupped hand full of water up, over my head, anointing me.
"Wash my hair?"
"Turn around then." I reached for the bottle of mint shampoo on the silver cosmetics trolley beside us. My bathroom was sparse, with no shelves or drawers. The trolley was my only storage and besides the bath, the only decoration. The delicate silver swirls Feli had painted on plain white stone walls didn't count, and nor did the toilet and sink in an alcove by the door. I liked it kind of plain, actually. It was relaxing. Especially in the evening.
Humming to himself, Italy turned his back to me. I poured a lashing of shampoo into my palm and lathered, before combing it through his damp hair.
"Did you rinse first?"
"You should have." It was not wet enough to foam, I had to rinse it and repeat the process again. He remained still and calm the whole time, shoulders sloped, back against my chest. The smell of his shampoo was good, but it didn't match the sweet sour flavour of apples in the bubble bath.
"You have magic hands." He told me softly, shyly. I felt a smile crack my lips and massaged his scalp a little harder, carefully avoiding that one particular lock of hair. It would be seen to efficiently and singularly once the bulk of the washing was done. For now, it could remain.
"Is that so?" I dipped my hands into the water to wash the suds off. Outside, birds sung happily. He nodded.
"Absolutely. It's a good thing."
"I hope so." Lifting a cupped hands worth of water to his crown, I began washing the shampoo out again. he laughed when I scrubbed briefly behind his ears, squirming where he sat.
"I love you Ludwig."
"I know." I kissed the nape of his neck, grabbing the base of his curl and swiping my pinched fingers neatly along the length with a soapy squeak. He shivered. "I love you too."
Feliciano's body is divine, as though designed with the sole intention of giving me pleasure.
Sinewy muscle held him still, my mouth explored all over his inner thighs, tasting and savouring him in his entirety. He made a strange noise when I stroked my finger inside of him. Not deeply, just enough to check if he was ready. As always, he was more than prepared. Sweat beaded my brow, envy bittered my tongue.
"Why are you so loose?" I asked him, pressing my finger in all the way, and breathing in his moan. "Look, I can fit three fingers in here all the way already." to illustrate, two more fingers were sunk inside. they met no resistance at all. "Have you been screwing around on me?"
"N-no!" a loud brisk crinkle, him shaking his head fiercely against the pillow. "Of course not. I would nev-ah!"
I withdrew my fingers and jammed them back in roughly, with enough power to jolt the whole bed beneath us. He buckled, almost toppling over, but held there by the cuff on his wrenched arm.
"Liar." Spitting in jealousy, I did it again. And again. he cried louder each time, I punctuated every push with hissed cruelties. Anything I could think of. Slut, whore…
"You've been fucking France haven't you?" my voice was unfamiliar, reptilian and dangerous. "Or England. Or maybe both…"
"No! I ha-AVENT!"
"Liar!" I bit his inner thigh roughly, drawing blood and spitting the taste onto the bed sheets. "You are a filthy lying slut." The bottle of schnapps. I seized it with slick hands, blinded by fury and hatred toward his imaginary lover, and trickled some into the wound spilling not much but enough of his rich coppery blood over quivering flesh. It was a violation of our agreement, and of the trust he had given me when agreeing to this, but in that moment I didn't care. His wounded shriek was musical, the most beautiful thing id ever heard. It reverberated all through me, humming in my bones and filling my mind with heavy fog. The blood thinned by alcohol stained white sheets pink, the wound inflamed, a fierce and painful looking red. I forced my fingers inside of him again, kneeling up and leaning over his curling body, reaching for the latch on the cuffs with my other hand. The neck by which I held the bottle of schnapps turned, spilling over his face and the pillow as I fumbled with the latch. He spluttered, tears becoming invisible in the flood of drink on his cheeks.
"Shut up!" I threw the bottle away in agitation, its presence hindering my work, and finally loosed the latch. The cuffs fell loose and he gasped in relief to have his arm free again. Though not for long. I was swift to reclaim it. Jerking him upward and almost ripping out his shoulder, seizing his waist and slamming my lips to his in a biting alcoholic kiss. My tongue ravaged his mouth, he couldn't breath, I could feel his struggle to inhale, his nails scratching pleadingly at my neck and throat. My fingers still pumped in and out, he grabbed my hat and tore it off me, bringing it down on my head, hitting me with it. I tore away from the kiss and shook him roughly.
"Cut that the fuck out!" I demanded it of him, like a psychopath I screamed it in his face. He dropped the hat, sobbing for air, the sight made me furious.
"What?" I barked at him again. He cried harder. Loosing patience I pulled my fingers from him and made sure to swipe them through the puddle of his blood on his thigh. "Don't like it when I treat you like the whore you are?"
He screamed when I brought my hand across his cheek, slapping him as hard as I could, snapping his face to the side and smearing a little blood across the side of his face.
"Dirty bitch." I licked it off, sucking the alcohol from his skin, neck prickling at the salty taste of metal. "you're a dirty needy bitch…"
His body shook, crumpled hopelessly into mine, legs spread either side of my lap. His face buried hopelessly into the side of my neck and I felt him nod, his sobs becoming hiccups.
"Say it." I rubbed the small of his back with my knuckles. "Say you are a needy slut. Tell me who has fucked you, how many times you were a whore behind my back."
His hair smelt of mint. An alien smell, in the flurry of apple and sweat that surrounded me.
"I- I am a n-needy sl-lut, Ludwig…"
"Who else has fucked you then?" I jerked him backward and forced his head down. His back wouldn't bend so dramatically, another scream, I pushed harder and he squirmed, trying to resist and instead shuffling his supporting knee backward. Soon he was crouched before me, face down in my crotch.
"S-Spain…" I could hear a tremble in his voice. "A-Austria and England…"
"Austria?" I hissed, ripping his hair and gritting my teeth. "You absolute whore."
"Romano… France." His tears were wetting my bare skin now, I could barely hear his words over the hammering in my chest. "France was the best…" I yanked his hair and he nuzzled my erection pleadingly. "He ate me out, sucked me over and over. He even made me cum by licking my nipples. He touched me like you never could…"
"Bitch." My cheeks were on fire, the image of Italy riding Frances face was possibly the most vivid and deliciously excruciating things I could ever envision.
"I'd do it again…"
I lost my temper then, pulling his head up and forcing his mouth open with my fingers. He tried to bite but a tug on his hair fixed that, I rammed my length swiftly into his mouth and he gagged, fisting the sodden sheets.
"Spew around my cock I will break your little neck." I ripped his head back, and then slammed it back down again. "and suck for gods sake! Don't just lie there and choke like a plastic doll."
He made a strange noise, and my loins tightened to feel him give a weak lick, my dick sliding over his tongue on the way out. I didn't give him time to catch breast and pushed all the way in again. Eventually, he got a sloppy sucking rhythm going, saliva trickled from the corners of his mouth, he gagged more than once, and the tensing felt good. It was hot inside his mouth, I was tempted to come down his throat, but decided against it.
"Stop." I pulled him off and glared at him, disgusted. "That felt like shit. You call that a blowjob? For a slut you know nothing about fucking."
"I'm sorry." He whimpered, looking more messed up than I had ever seen in his life. I sneered and reached for the erect curl to the side of his head.
"No, you aren't sorry, you-" I dropped my sentence when I grabbed his hair and tugged, eyes widening to hear him moan loudly and unexpectedly. Something wet and warm splattered my knee, his eyes fluttered shut in a painful grimace of pleasure. Heavy breath that sounded suspiciously like my name filled my ears. I blinked in shock.
"Did you just cum?" I asked him softly. He moaned miserably and tried to hide his bright pink face, head shaking.
"Yes you did. Look. You got it on my knee." I swiped my finger numbly through his jizz and held it up for him to see. "Why did you do that?"
He shook his head desperately, eyes begging for mercy I was not happy to give.
"Please, Ludwig it was an accident I-"
"I'll show you an accident!" I wiped his ejaculate on his face and shoved him backward, wrenching his legs open. The sight of his face when he orgasmed, swimming in pain and bliss, haunted me. It struck even deeper than hearing him say he had fucked Francis. It made me frantic.
Without hesitation I slammed into him, pressing my whole erection into his body in one smooth motion. He yelped and arched up, I withdrew and slammed again. He was loose, yes, but not loose enough to be un-pleasurable. Truth, Italy's body was perfect. It was divine and hot, sucking me in further and further. I distant howl told me when I had struck the right spot and I carried on through, pushing my cock purposefully against that spot, seeing how long it would take. Not long. His muscles clenched around me and I forced harder to penetrate, bed-head slamming the wall behind it. More semen splattered my stomach; his crying and the crash of sex were blended as I fucked him harder and harder, striving for my completion. The leg I had bitten, its burning wound, gushed blood onto my hip when he wrapped his legs around. His sweaty body devoured me hungrily, I pushed harder, until all there was was his heat pouring through my bones and veins and draining me.
He came again, this time falling limp beneath me as I finished, fiery release vaporising everything in it s wake. My mind swum, I didn't bother to hold myself up as the crest of relief crashed around me and dragged me under. I crushed him, but didn't move. I was too numb.
We stayed like that for a while; I caught my breath and rolled off him, exhausted. He was still limp and unmoving, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only comfort.
"Feliciano…?" I touched his cheek with trembling hands, swallowing a dark depressing feeling. He didn't respond, I hurried to unbuckle his leg binding and threw it as far across the room as I could. "Feli are you okay?"
This time, he stirred, opening his eyes and blinking at me blearily.
"Are you sure."
"Mmm…" he closed his eyes and straightened his leg. The red in his face was fading, replaced with a healthier, more radiant blush.
"I love you, you know that right?" my anxious disposition was returning, his bosom buddy guilt close behind. Had I gone too far this time? My heart speed up not from excitement now, but fear.
"Of course." He smiled weakly, eyes still shut. "I love you too."
Okay, so that was incredibly hard. I don't like bondage or abuse, and ive never written it before. O.o I don't really find it sexy at all, which was a problem when I was writing because I generally judge how im going by how turned on I get whilst typing. So yeah… I have no idea if its appealing or not. Ho-hum…
also, i just watched a documentary about the Westboro Baptist church in America today.
i must say, it offended some of my values. A LOT of my values.
All of them.
i think its fascinating though... i mean, imagine growing up in a cult-like religious sect with a set frame of rules and beliefs and suddenly waking up one morning and realising whats going on in your life and the world respective to you as a person within that group.
im feeling inspiration. ಠ_ಠ