Title: Please

Character/s: Prussia Austria

Pairings: PruAus

Ratings: M

Genre: romance, pr0n, tragedy

Warnings:crazed author knows shit all about history in general, and even less about Prussian history specifically. Has no intention of learning. Lots of smut. Hasn't been edited yet, but will be within the week I hope.

Disclaimers: I do not own APH or any of the wuotes used in this story. I don't own the song 'please' by LUDO either, but I do own the MP3. :D

Summarry: Prussia has just been stripped of his title as a country, and due to be taken by Russia in the morning. But he and Austria have some unresolved emotions to sort out first. NOW WITH SMUT!

...If the days won't allow us to see each other, memories will, and if my eyes can't see you, my heart will never forget you…

My footsteps were soft, silenced by thin stockings skimming over cold parquet floors. The moonlight cast distorted shadows of naked trees and window frames in blue upon the walls. The hush shivered.

I drew my night gown closer around my body and carried on. My piano was larger than life in the night-time, shining deepest black and lit with the reflections of stars in a razor sharp sky.

Swallowing the strange steely taste in my mouth, trying to ignore the chilled shivers that were prickling my spine, I slipped between the instrument and the stool, resting shaking wrists on the edge of the keys. It felt surreal. Numb. My chest felt immensely wide and hollow, cold sweat stained the back of my gown transparent and my hair line damp. Even without glasses, the perfect sharpness and tacticality of everything around me was borderline overwhelming.

Trying not to gag on the feeling of shock, I pressed a few fingers into my piano, closing my eyes and allowing the sound to drown out my slow, oily thoughts. It was sharp and rich in the silence. Relaxing into the haunting ebb of music, I closed my eyes and tried not to think. Tried not to focus on my fingers gliding over black and white, gleaning eerie, aching music from the strings before me.

My fingers played freely, without restraint, mirroring the sudden wideness in my chest. The awareness that suddenly, I was free. I was standing alone and standing unchallenged. Fear was no longer a crutch.

But my fingers also played stiffly, as though the rigid shock hadn't quite worn off. As though they had just been told that the way they had been playing all their life was wrong. That they had to start over again.

The music they wove was glassy and cold, swift but lacking joy. Bursting with liquid, icy gusto, like a storm, a tsunami, a waterfall of crystal water pouring down and into chaos at the bottom. Like free falling, like having nothing to clutch onto. Nothing to hold.

The music I forced into it was hollow and insincere triumph. I felt the sound echoing in the air stain with frustration as I couldn't get my forced emotion to ring clear amongst the silk weave of the quivering freedom song. It was like clumsy stitching, trying to hem a cloth far to complex for human stitches, far too blue and painfully beautiful to be pierced with a needle and cut to suit my purposes.

It was infinite.

And lonely.

"You play so beautifully…"

The music clanged to a halt and I screamed, jumping backward and sending my stool squeaking across the floor.

"Calm down, Roddy, its just me."

The silhouette of a man, taller than I and slim, shoulders broad and body trim, edged from the shadow of my door. He was pallid, in the moonlight, almost looking ill. His eyes though were burning, lit with a powerful life rarely seen in the eyes of any man, mortal or otherwise.


"None other." The smile was familiar, wide and confident, but also slightly distorted in a way I can't explain. Like looking into a cracked mirror, the lines didn't match up quite right for it to be natural. It chilled me, it made me shiver. More than the cold.

I griped the hem of my night gown and stepped back, feeling the dark velvet of blush flood my cheeks.

Gilbert, the former proud nation of Prussia, combed his thin fingers through mussed up, cobweb silver hair. "Is it alright if we talk." He gazed at me unwaveringly with those impassioned, commanding eyes.

"No, I don't want to talk. The talking is over."

"Please, Roderich."

It caught me off guard. I had no response other than to stare at him wide eyed. He pressed his lips together and glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 10 o'clock. Just. The light was barely enough to make out the second hand.

"Two hours, I'm only asking for a little moment of your time. Can we sit?" he gestured to the piano stool by which I stood.

Composing myself, hoping my hands weren't shaking too obviously, I resumed my cooling seat. He stepped over, still wearing heavy uniform boots with his black trousers and loose rolled sleeves shirt, and settled beside me.

"What do you want?" I asked him, staring pointedly at my unreadable sheet music. "Surely you have better things to do with your last two hours than to harass Me." the thought makes me uncomfortable, makes the space in my breast seem a little bigger. I blink furiously, forcing down tears that shouldn't be.

"I didn't come here to harass you." he leaned forward in the stool, hands skimming the piano lightly. "I came to ask you a favour."

"Why should I do you a favour?"

He shrugged carelessly. "Because I'm awesome." His response was predictable, believable, but beneath the surface, his voice shook. "So will you do it or not?"

"… I suppose." I bit my lip, wringing my fingers tightly. "Depending on what it is."

"Play me a song."

Astonished, I turned to look at him. "A song?"

He nodded. "A song."

"… Which one."

"Fantasia in F sharp minor. C.P.E. Bach." He spoke as though he already had decided which to ask of me, agitated fingers combing his hair again. "You know it?"

"Of course I know it." I did too; it was one of the few I knew off by heart that were not Beethoven or Mozart.

"When you're ready then." As if unsure where he should look, after making such an utterly unexpected request, he gazed at my hands that had, without me noticing, resumed position on the keyboard. "Please play."

Shaken, feeling the strangest squirming sensation at the pit of my stomach, I found the place on the keys where it began. He shuffled down the bench, so he wasn't in the way.

It came out almost hesitantly at first. Gilbert had never shown any interest in my music, I didn't even realise he knew who C. P. E. was, yet, there he was, seated expectantly on the end of the stool, studying my hands with unfocused eyes. Shadowy and much, much more real than I had ever noticed before.

I found myself accidently fumbling, striking the wrong key and wincing when it came out sounding terrible. Tears threatened to flow again; I clenched my jaw and launched into the next part of the song, hoping he wouldn't notice. I needed to relax. Just because it's Gilbert asking… what makes him different from Hungary requesting I play her some silly kids song? How is he different from Spain, who always sat beside me while I played him the stupidest little jingles imaginable over and over again?

The stage fright faded a little, when I thought of these things. I exhaled deeply and let myself flow into the music. It was a short piece, and I was over half way. The staccato chopping of notes approaching, I tossed my hair back off my face and sat erect, preparing. I felt the tune soar from my fingers, and I hoped the final few softening notes rung in his ears when I was completed. Concert over, suddenly spent.

He was silent, as silent as the night-time. The ticking clock read 10.15.

"Thank you," he finally spoke, turning to face me properly. "I appreciate that."

"If anyone asks, this never happened." I stood gruffly, closing my piano.

"I wont tell anyone." A small smile morphed the shadows on his face. "So long as you don't that is."

I winced. "Of course I won't."

"Then it can be our little secret." He too stood, stretching. The bones in his body creaked. I glanced at him, up and down. He looked the same as always, rendered slightly different in the moonlight but essentially still the same man. I could see through the white cotton of his shirt. Suddenly, I was uncomfortably aware he could probably see through my nightgown too. Although he didn't seem bothered.

"What?" he asked, catching me looking. I blushed again, tossing my head away in forced indignation, subtly trying to hide my exposed body.


"No, what is it. It has to have been something."

"It was nothing."

"Roderich tell me."

Roderich… my heart sped up to hear him say that. For the third time that evening, he had called me by my name.

"Why are you calling me that?"

"Well it's your name isn't it?" he frowned at me, scratching his head. "You cant mean to say that in the past couple of hundred years you didn't believe that I didn't know your name."

"I wasn't sure."

"… stupid."

I opened my mouth in indignation. He ignored me and reached for my face, flicking the tip of my nose.

"Bamp." He smiled again, and touched his own nose. "Wow, you look different without your glasses…"

Frustration dug its nails under my skin. I scowled and spewed the first thing from my mouth.

"You look different without a uniform."

"touché." His little smirk was enough to make me want to punch him.

We remained there for a while in silence.

I was too uncomfortable to move, and he was too at ease to do so either. I found my eyes glued to him, his cool expression, the steady calm in his composure betrayed only by the faintest fluttering vein in the side of his neck. I swallowed, squirming with curiosity.

"Aren't you scared?"

The question was direct, and much, much to personal. I didn't realise until after I asked. Until after I heard it in the silence.

His Adams apple bobbed when he swallowed, his slender neck, which held a proud chin high with arrogant grace, wore weary. The heavy iron cross at his throat, framed by skin the colour of snow, seemed to weight him down heavily. It seemed like the only thing keeping him earthbound.

"Of course not." He fingered the necklace with a tremoring finger. "I'm terrified shitless."

The blatant honesty was painful. It shocked me.

"What?" he saw my face and reached for my chin. "Were you expecting a witty comeback? Or a denial?"

I nodded weakly.

"Well, you wont get one." He sighed and rubbed his face agitatedly. "Truth is, I'm screaming on the inside Roderich…"

"Oh…" I wrung my sleeves a little more, beginning again to tremble. It was a strange feeling, as though I was having my insides ripped down and rebuilt. Confusion, disbelief.

Because tomorrow I will wake up and Gilbert will be gone. And then what? Bam, a huge chunk of my life, disappeared forever. I could compare it to loosing a limb. Something I had never known life without. Something I could always depend on, no matter how much I disliked it.

Something, no, someone, who had been through more with me than anyone else.

Gilbert pressed all of my buttons perfectly. He played me like an expert only could, fingering the wrong keys with artistic deliverance and purpose. The sonata he played with me was out of step and out of line, it was ghastly and torturous, but in its perfect disgrace who was I to say it wasn't flawless? To know how to stroke every sore nerve just so, to understand me well enough to not leave a single dignity unravaged, was something I had never appreciated before. It only seemed real now, when realizing that no-one knew me that well. No-one felt so strongly for me as to want to know me that well. Not even Hungary, who I had been married to, had ever made me feel as strongly about anything as Gilbert could so dismissively with just a wink or a prod or a phrase.

"Well… did he say how long you would be there?"

He shrugged. "You know that man. Could be a week, could be forever." A small, sad smile turned thin and engaging lips.

"Oh." I glanced at the clock. 10.20pm. why was he still here? He was wasting time he could be saying goodbye to Ludwig, or Francis, or Antonio. Friends… the people he supposedly cared for.

I swallowed, breaking into a sweat. I'd always assumed I wasn't Prussia's favourite person in the world, but I couldn't deny that held at knifepoint, threatened under the penalty of paralysis and death, the quiet voice from my heart whispered a soft 'but you care for him, right?', creating a havoc of mind and emotion within the confides of my mutinous, wavering body. "Well, shouldn't you be talking to Ludwig or something?"

"We have talked."

"Spain and France?"

"Also talked." He spoke flatly and softly. "Spain said he may visit me, if I am still…"

"alive." I finished his sentence.

The ticking of the clock was heavy. I shivered, the cold fluttering my skin, and wrapped my arms around myself in a cradling gesture.

"Yeah…" I almost couldn't hear him. "If I'm still alive."

With that small admission, the thickness of the air doubled. My breath caught, I squeezed my eyes shut to hold in the burning, unwelcome tears. But they were insistent. I had to turn my face away delicately, to hide my humiliation. It hadn't registered in my mind what I was crying about yet. All I could see was a stretch of empty white space before me.

No twinkling red eyes or obnoxious laugh haunting me, guiding me.

Holding me up and swinging me around, shoving others off and pushing me down only when he says it's okay to fall.

"You will be strong now, wont you Roderich." He sniffed and raised his chin, to gaze out the window. "I won't be here now, to keep France at bay. I wont be here to bully you exclusively now. Everyone else will want a piece of you too." His bangles on his wrist clinked when he shifted his hand. The ID bracelet he wore was shiny and unfamiliar to me. It marked him as Russia's now.

"You read my mind." I admitted, a new pair of tears skating down my cheeks.

"I'm pretty good at that, right?" he laughed bravely, a little too loudly to be genuine. I bit my lip; repulsed by the words I felt swelling at the back of my throat. They came out a whisper, horrible words I wished I could snatch back. But I knew that if I didn't say them, they would ferment bitterly inside my chest until I turn old.

"Please don't leave me here."

He inhaled sharply, head snapping to stare at me. My embarrassment was so blinding I could have happily dissolved into air itself.

"I'll be lonely without you."

"Ah, shit Roderich…"

"Well I will!" I rubbed angrily at my eyes with the heal of my hand, disgusted with myself. Fancy crying. In front of Gilbert.

"shhh…" a hand, unfamiliar to me but very gentle, stroked my shoulder blades shakily. "shh… Roderich it's okay… it's okay. Don't cry, please."

Shaking my head, grabbing the neckline of my shirt to dab at the tracks on my cheeks, and unable to form words anymore, I allowed him to coil his arm around my neck and draw me against him tenderly. A sweet caress, a paired hand brushed my temple.

"I'm not really leaving you." he mumbled, voice liquid and soothing. "I promise."

I wish I could say that that was how we stayed.

His body was warm, his touch not overly intimate but then again, much more close than he had ever been to me before. I felt my tears subside slowly, my breathing still hitched by my pulse steadily rising until I feared it sat at the back of my tongue. My chin lifted, he nuzzled my cheek and nudged my face around so we were forehead to forehead, Nose to nose. Eyes fluttering with nerves, I could feel the brush of his breath against my jaw. My nails pulled creases in his shirt.

"One kiss," I formed the words, an inaudible whisper against his mouth. Whether I was asking or stating something that was going to happen anyway, I couldn't tell. He edged and nestled to oblige, I shied, then returned. Our noses bumped and neither of us could decide. Should we? Shouldn't we? Would it be too weird? Was it the right thing to do, to placate the feeling in my gut?

When our lips met, it was by accident. He had shifted his face to try and meet my hesitant offer again, and I was to slow to double think and pull my chin backward.

My whole body froze. The surreality of the moment made me light headed.

He tasted surprisingly sweet.

And so, I folded into his arms, shaking, hardly believing the feel of astonishingly soft lips empathetic with my own. His kisses were light, cottony and warm and soft on my mouth, his fingertips traced the languid curve of my waist. I fanned my fingers and clutched him to me, palms flush against shoulder blades flat and powerful.

"Gilbert!" realisation hit me and I jerked my head backward. My cheeks were alight, my hands were shaking. If he hadn't been holding me, I'm sure I would have dropped bonelessly to the parquet floor. "What are you doing? We can't do this! I…" words escaped me, my heart was beating brokenly, much to loud for me to hear my own thoughts.

"Well then let me ask you something." His lips brushed my hair, I felt the single flyaway lock betray me, springing to full erection and tickling his cheek. "If you let me go tonight, and never see me again… could you forgive yourself?"

He looked so much older in this light, so much more… like a proud nation. Like a knight. Like a flawless, untouchable god. So permanent and so always there.

Sobering to think he was going to be taken away.

Terrifying. Chilling.

Painful in a raw, guttural way that ground its knuckles into my chest. In a heavy, stone filled way that felt like it was pulling me down into endless black.

But he was so warm… maybe I wanted a shadow of that warmth to remain on my skin, if only for a little while.

…True love is not being with someone because you think you can be happy with that person, but because without that person you know you can never be…


"Roerich." I murmured his name against the camber of his throat, elegant and dignified, Adams apple trembling a little. His skin exuded the unmistakeable scent of lavender, calming the desperate sick thumping of my heart to a steady, ominous beat. It was counting my every last moment, the organ in my chest hammering the very last beats.

I hoped for nothing more than to give each and every one to him. Because a funny thing about being wrenched from your roots, you no longer care about selfish things, or immature things. It jets a lot of stuff into violent clarity, agonising epiphanies, terrifying realisations, and regrets so magnanimous you could drown beneath their weight.

"Please don't go Gilbert…"

I winced; the tremble in his voice was breaking me, tearing me up in aching ways I could never describe. His renewed tears were silent but plentiful, sliding over porcelain cheeks, wetting the rough cotton of my pillow and my own skin when I begged his swollen lips of a kiss.

Our teeth clacked a little, slowly, the sound of tongues sliding wetly, his breath heavy from his nose, and the seeping heat taste and texture of his mouth set in my sober core.

"You're a virgin to a man." I mumbled the assumption, letting my eyes fall half-closed, not sure if I could bring myself to meet those begging, swimming lilac eyes full on. He nodded pale cheeks staining petal pink in the moonlight, I smiled weakly.

"Me too." I kissed his moth chastely. Biting my tongue, breaking out in a sweat at the prospect of telling him I was a virgin to a woman too. That though he had married and loved many a time, I was untouched, and I had always believed I would remain such.

Adrenaline, a jump in my stomach, why not? I blurted and decided it didn't matter. He wouldn't laugh at me, or kick me out. The state he was in right now I doubted he would be happy to do anything other than writhe and moan.

He seemed astonished.


I nodded and embraced him tightly.

"But don't tell anyone. It's embarrassing."

"It can be our secret." He nuzzled my neck, one hand wandering up, offering me a pinky in a childish, yet undeniably endearing swear of silence. I hooked it with my own, feeling, if possible, even more as though this man was the centre of the universe at this moment. I kissed him again, lingering, drawing his tongue into my mouth and sucking on it, massaging it against my own. He held me tightly, I found myself overwhelmed by the lightness of his frame and his absolute yielding body. He melted deliciously beneath my touch, sighing as I pressed my hands along his sides. He gripped the side of my face and combed his beautiful musical fingers through my hair. His lips were succulent and scandalous, parted and working gossily against my own. My heartbeat raced, his actions fanning the flames in my breast that had nothing to do with fear. The clock on my bedside read ten to eleven.


"Mmm…" I pulled his light nightdress up to his chest, allowing him to wriggle under me and out of it, immediately throwing his arms around my neck and reattaching his mouth to my jaw.

"How… are… you feeling… right now?" He broke his sentence with messy kisses; the soft rake of his panting against my ear tingled at the small of my back.

"Like I love you." I assured him, massaging his ass, rutting my still partially clothed body between his legs. He whined softly, like a starved kitten, and sucked harder on my neck.

"Take off your trousers!"

"Let go of me and I will."

He released me as though suddenly I was burning hot, encouraging me backward with flat palms. I knelt, my fingers fumbled with the ties on my pants, eventually I had to tear my eyes from him lying there with his hair ruffled, his glasses absent. His perfect white chest embellished with rigid dusky pink nipples heaved dramatically…

"Here, let me." he drew his hand across his brow and sat up, reaching for the secures on my trousers and almost having as much trouble as me getting them off. Finally, excitedly, he yanked them down. Before I could say or do anything he had shoved them and my underwear to my knees and was tonguing the line on my stomach from belly button to the soft curls at the base of my cock. I bit my lip, eyes falling closed, lost in the warm slickness of his mouth stroking me. His kisses were pouring velvety and sweet through my whole body, my arms were shaking. I dropped my hand to his head, running them through silky, rich hair. It tickled, it was sweet scented and delectable.

His head bobbed, licking my flat stomach, up and down and teasing. The head of my erection pressed to the base of his throat while he worked, but he did nothing to fix it, instead rubbing my thigh muscles powerfully. They warmed under his ministrations, the friction maddening.

"It's bigger than I had expected…" he murmured, ignoring my low plea when his rubbing hand snuck a little higher than it had so far, only to slide away once more. "I mean, its not five metres but…"

I winced, to precariously aroused to respond to something I normally would. It was one of those things that no longer mattered. It was one of those stupid things I would regret wasting time on. My grip in his hair tightened, and I moaned quite unashamedly when he finally relented and administered a toungeful, opened mouth kiss to the head of my cock.

Hazed violet eyes, lids half cast and smouldering wildly, burned on my face. I dropped my head forward to look at him. Seeing the tip of my erection teased and tongued before my eyes intensified the sensation. It zapped straight through my spine, in a crippling wave that was almost an orgasm.

His eyes fluttered shut and he sat up, flopping backward and parting his bent legs so I could still see his dark cheeked, glimmering eyed smile. His crooked finger beckoned me forward into the square of silver moonlight cast onto the bed, his one arm flung carelessly above his head reached for the bedpost and gripped it. I licked my lips briefly, to wet them.

"Come get it then Gilbert…"

I leapt on him. As though a spring coiled in my muscles suddenly snapped, I rocketed at him so hard and fast the bed crashed backward against the wall. He yelped and just caught me. My open mouth silenced his uncomfortably at fist but soon finding a rhythm sucking and licking as much of his tongue and teeth and lips as I could.

"Gil- Gilbert…"

"Wha?" I asked around a mouthful of his upper lip.

"Eat me."

"Huh?" I fisted my fingers in his locks, shifting my frantic kisses to his throat.

"e-eat me. Please. Use your m-outh~" the light breathlessness of his request stole my own air. "Like a woman…"

"Shhh…" I shut him up with a few kisses and spread his legs a little more, hands skating the inside of his thighs. "I know what you mean, I just couldn't hear you."

"Will you?" the rise and fall of his breastbone was urgent. I was lost in it; the starved desperation for air dizzied me.

"Of course…" my lips shifted from his neck to his chest. I felt for his stiff nipples, tweaking them, giving one a brief suck and earning a little cry but moving straight down. "But you need to tell me if I'm doing it right, okay?"

He nodded frantically, one hand petting my hair shakily as I sunk lower.

The hair between his legs was not thick, but it smelled strongly of lavender and soap, and also, richly of the smell that was simply Austria. Like a garden in summer, like ice cream and sheets of music. It too was soft and lustrous. Curling, tickling my nose. I smiled into it, nudging his erection and breathing softly onto the base. The taste when stroking cautiously with my tongue was of normal, slightly salted skin. He keened softly; I closed my eyes and slid my tongue all the way up the length.

"G-Gilbert… it feels… oh. Oh Gilbert…"

"Mmm?" I sucked softly on the head, with a little more finesse than he had been treating me with earlier, lapping up the slightly bitter taste of excited precum dripping forth delightedly. Beneath me he squirmed, panting heavily and whining every occasion. I slid my hands beneath his ass and lifted his hips welcomingly, releasing his dick and licking my lips.

His breathing became stressed; his legs quivered either side of me in anticipation. I could visualize the bloom of sweat on his brow, the heartbeat hammering a fractured melody in his chest was mirrored flawlessly by my own. He was anxious, excited, my mind spun to know that I was doing this.


For so many years, have I seeked to touch him unlike anyone else. Perhaps I hadn't known why, perhaps I didn't want to. Perhaps I still didn't. All I know is that I was there tonight. With him. Not with my brother, or my friends, or anyone else. It was his face, the one that leapt to mind the moment those words sunk in. When I truly understood I may never see any of these people again. Ever.

And I don't want to question why Roderich was the first person I needed to see. The last person I wanted to touch before I went away to an uncertain future.

Because doing so would waste time.

So no hesitations, not allowing him the indulgence of anxiety, I nosed my way between his legs properly and licked him as intimately as I could, surprised by the softness of his flesh yielding beneath me. The groan I was greeted with from far above was tearful, I felt the sheets beneath us crinkle as his toes curled against the cloth.

The hand in my hair was paralysed.

So I licked again, a little more intrusively, trying to lift his hips higher and get comfortable. Sadly, it didn't work like that. I gave a muffled grunt of frustration and sat back up.

"Huh?" he whimpered, eyes wide and glassy, more exposed to me in that moment than ever before.

"I can't reach… move so I can lie down and uh…" I rubbed my nose, a little embarrassed. "Sit on my face."

My blush was matched by his own.

"Ah, Gilbert its okay if you don't…"

"I do want." Setting my jaw, cursing biology, I patted his knee and rolled off of him. "Come on.

He propped himself up clumsily on one arm and sat up.

"So I just…"

"Straddle my chest and we will sort it out." I tugged on the back of his leg encouragingly, rubbing my fingers across slightly sweaty skin. He cleared his throat and obliged, sitting comfortably, a pleasant weight. From this angle he was no less beautiful, certainly more powerful but no different to the glorious Austria I adored.

I found myself worshipping with butterfly kisses across his thighs.


"Come closer, hold the bedposts." I pulled him by the waist. "Kneel up a little more."

"Be gentle…"

"Yes, I promise."

The sheets shuffled as he moved forward. I closed my eyes, positioning him just right, and wasted no time in resuming. The kissing and licking was much easier here, and his reaction much, much more dramatic. To feel the muscles in his legs either side of me clench, his body folding at the waist as he collapsed forward against the bed head, lamenting long and low.


My name on his lips was sweeter than anything I've ever experienced. It completely shocked me, blanked my mind, and left me helplessly obsessed with the realm of his body and the small world within the bedroom. One of my hands flew between my own legs, I kicked my trousers of finally, and stroked myself smoothly and swiftly in time.

"Gilbert it feels… it feels good. Just…" his gasped words became inaudible, I stroked my tongue across the yielding, warm spot I was positively aching to sink inside of, slicking it around, daring to slip the tip of my tongue in and wiggle it.

"Suck, Gil please~"

I gave a small suck, kissing and touching with my mouth. His body shuddered above me, as though I had just kicked him, crippling in pleasure and rocking his hips a little. The sound of a frantic hand grasping and jerking himself as he rode my tongue, I sorely wished I could see him, lilac eyes unfocused and half cast, hair bouncing, lips parted in gentle ecstasy. My hand wasn't moving fast enough, I couldn't, my heart was wild, my mind lost.

"Gilbert… god Gilbert please I'm c-OMING!" the sudden tremor that wracked his body took me by surprise. He jerked upward, I was left there with the tip of my tongue protruding, eyes snapping open and seeing nothing but the night for a moment before something warm and thick spattered my forehead and no-doubt my hair. I just had time to move before he collapsed down again, lowering himself into miniature splits and clutching the headboard frantically, heaving breaths so heavily I thought he might hyperventilate.

"Roderich are you o-"

"Gilbert… oh god Gilbert…" teary, heavy, he threw himself at me, arms latching as fast as possible. I caught him, tumbling backwards and rolling him over, still kissing fiercely, still needing to actually cum. His legs opened once again, I kissed him and cuddled him and bathed him in love. Everything I felt, I poured into his body.

"I'm ready Gilbert…" he moaned it unto my ear, hooking a leg around my waist. I threw a hand up to the headboard and swiped his semen off the surface to thinly lubricate a finger or too to make way inside him.

I was surprised by how easily my fingers dipped in. He didn't seem worried by the action, and I gave a couple of pumps before deciding.

A glance at the clock told me it was ten past 11.

"I want your dick." He mumbled in my ear. "I want your dick in my body… please… let me repay you. Let me love you."

"Only if you let me love you harder."

At the back of my neck I was beginning to feel the anxiety he must have, the realisation that I was going to do this. That this was happening, unbearably unexpected. A pang of regret for the circumstances… God jinxed the broken road to his arms, and the dreamlike awareness struck me with agonizing force, breaking my heart to tiny pieces as I pressed my cock within the welcoming body and found myself reeling in bliss. Hot, pressing, sucking me hungrily and fluctuating so perfectly around me. He let lose a delighted cry, head thrown back, fingers tying tightly in the sheets.

"Does it hurt?" I managed to croak. "Are you okay?"

"It feels amazing…" his heavy breath, his hips lifting impatiently. "More, please…"

I withdrew, biting back a gasp when that part of him clutched me possessively. Reluctant to release the firm flesh penetrating him. It sent aching shivers through my spine, a tension building within my thighs and the base of my stomach.

He cried again when I pushed back in, and some more when I tried it again. Soon, it became a slow, steady rhythm, the bed creaking, sweat running down my back.

"Gilbert… more… more, more I need…"


My beautiful, loud Roderich, squirming and arching beneath me, panting, crying. Clawing at my body and clinging to me as though he would never let me go. Ever.

But he has to, I realised too late. And soon, I would feel his hand slip away from mine.

Before I knew it, we would be split apart. After so many years of being completely entwined and entangled by emotion, by hatred and desire and unspeakable love. And curse me, goddamn my pride. What had I been thinking?

All that time I had been to damn shy, to damn blind.

I left it too late, and now the break would be raw, painful. Unhealing for me and maybe glazed over far too easily in his mind. Was this selfish of me, to love him then run?


But I needed him.


"I love you." I found myself huffing as I worked over him. "I love you Roderich…"

"I know." he gasped and arched his body as my dick nudged his pleasure spot. "I know Gil, I do."

"I love you more than anything. I love you more than my life. More than anyone's life."

"I kn-ow gilbert…" he groaned and clutched me to his chest. "I know…"

We worked in silence for a bit then, huffing and puffing, clutching and kissing to the creak of floorboards. He held my eyes, I was hypnotised, falling into them endlessly.

"You have an incredible body," his voice echoed across what seemed like ages. It wasn't until I saw his lips moved I realised it was his own. "It's driving me mad. I've never felt so good before…"

I closed my eyes and focused on his voice, backed by the bang of the bed. He stroked my broken ego expertly, after so many years of jabbing it he sure knew where to ease and pet, driving me to absolute insanity. The tightness between my legs was almost a hindrance, my thrusts losing pace. When I felt him curl and flex, a fierce wail from deep in his chest telling me he was cumming once more, I was lost. His body begged me to release within him, I was powerless to resist and rose to meet the crest of bliss that crashed over me howling a long, almost pained mess of syllables and jerking violently against his slender, delicate body. He entwined himself with me, kissing me as I dropped into alternate and almost unbearable consciousness, tears that would have been humiliating yesterday christening the lovers bed we shared and admitting to the hopelessness that slew me slowly inside and out.

"Gilbert…" he kissed me fiercely and I met him, wild, needy, adjusting to the feeling of slipping from him and being separate again, the ghost of my orgasm finally fading.

"I love you."

"I know, I love you too."

I rubbed his back, more to calm me than him, trying to silence my hiccups and the odd hysterical laughter that was pouring from my mouth. He mimicked my laughter, both of us staggering in the fierce irony, holding and crying and adoring with all we had.

"Please don't leave." He sobbed. "I need you."

"I know. I need you too." Kissing his face and smoothing his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"Stay Gilbert you have to."

"I want to." I buried my face in his hair, sniffing deeply. "I just…" there were no words that could express what I needed to say. I love you wasn't enough. I need you wasn't enough. I worship you was nowhere near enough.

I settled for an embrace so crushing he complained of it.

"I know." voice horse, he eased me off and relaxed into the pillows behind him. "But you can't."

Calmness slowly restored, his statement sobering and darkening the warmth of our lovemaking to heavy and agonizing. I wiped my tears aside, and settled back. The clock read twenty six past.

Wordlessly, I pulled the covers over us and drew him to me. My lips ghosted his cheek one final time, he closed his eyes and relaxed into my arms.

"Tell me you love me again." he requested.

"I love you."

"One more time."

"I love you."

He nodded, slowly and jerkily, and swallowed.

"I love you too." Our fingers laced beneath the sheets. "I will always love you."

"Even if you never see me again?"


I combed his hair and sighed heavily.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise. Just…" he trailed off, hand in mine tightening.

"What?" my heart leapt. Just… just could mean anything. Anything he wanted I would do it, truly. Always.

"Promise me… in exchange, you will come back for me when you can, okay?"

And once again, the ticking of the clock was echoing. Signifying the loss of time, the loss of moments I could spend with my love in my arms.

"… What if I never can?"

"Will you try?"

Soft, endless purple eyes met my own. I smiled weakly and petted the small curl of hair that always sprung free form his neat style.

"Of course."

I sealed it with a kiss.

"Now go to sleep."

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you." I closed my eyes and savoured the feeling of his bare skin tangled with my body. Our fingers threaded "I love you with all my heart and soul.

"I will wait for you…"

"I love you. I will always love you…

…When you feel alone, just look at the spaces between your fingers, remember that in those spaces you can see my fingers locked with yours forever…

Dawn broke later than usual. Or perhaps I just woke with a little more awareness of the seconds passing by, and the moments since the arm around my waist became nothing more than empty air.

Bizarre, the bed I rested in is wide and empty, extremely soft. The sheets were crisp and cool and white, the comforter stitched with lilacs and violets. There was a sink in the mattress where I lay, big enough for two men locked in a tight embrace. It was occupied by only one now, clutching the spare pillow achingly, trying to sort wild and cruel dreams from sore and tender reality.

At first, I was unsure of my name, my reason for being there, but knew something was missing that morning. Why tears tracked my cheeks was a mystery the mess of consciousness was still to sort out, the strange hollowness in my stomach, almost sickening in its intensity, the absence of another's warmth seemed like an illusion. Especially consider the sheets in which I lay were so rich with that smell. That heavy, velvety aroma of the best fresh beer, of earth and some kind of delightfully fresh soap or perfume I knew id only eve smelt on the skin of one man.

"Gilbert…" slowly and painfully, I extracted tangled and gossamer strings of thought from the muddle in my brain, sorting them, trying to remember. Slowly and painfully, images flooded back, sensations overwhelmed me, awareness of where I was and why.

And how I was here now, in this empty room, completely and entirely alone.

I lay there shaking, eyes wide and staring unseeing at the sky outside the window. It was endlessly blue and calm. There was a breeze wafting in through a cracked frame, the curtains rustled accordingly. My hands clutched his pillow desperately; I nuzzled it, trying to calm my screaming heartbeat, forcing myself not to be sick from the crippling pain in my chest. Deep breaths. Each one tasted like Gilbert. His lips, his skin, his scent…

I wanted to lie here forever, I realised, live here and die here. But at the same time I wanted to leap from the bed and run away forever. To forget this terrible loneliness and never experience anything near as painful again.

"Gilbert…" I found myself begging the empty room for mercy. "Gilbert, are you still here?" the blankets crumpled when I sat.

No reply. A dull ache was pronounced at the small of my back, as well as the side of my neck and shoulders and chest. I glanced at my upper body, noting with a painful throb the bruising bite marks that littered my skin. A heavy chain around my neck bore a familiar necklace, one I'd never worn before, and don't recall acquiring. In the form of a cross, heavy and gothic.

It hurt badly to move my legs, I fell backward and rolled over, aware of stickiness pouring out of me, dribbling over my thighs and wetting the sheets. It was thick and sticky, rich with everything that was Gilbert.

I sorely regretted its loss.

…Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there…