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The conference room was elegant in that sterile, high-level diplomatic way. Polished walnut-colored table, filtered light from ceiling panels, a soft murmur of overlapping accents. Around the table sat the representatives of over a dozen nations, dressed in custom-tailored suits and expensive watches, their postures rigid or bored depending on how many hours they’d already been trapped in this negotiation.
Ludwig sat at the west end of the table, posture military-straight, a neat black folder opened in front of him. A blue pen rested precisely in line with the folder’s edge. His eyes swept from the agenda to the clock. He was fifteen minutes early, of course. Punctuality wasn’t a virtue. It was a rule.
To his left, the chair assigned to Feliciano Vargas remained conspicuously empty.
Ludwig’s brow twitched, but he said nothing. He didn’t tap his fingers. He didn’t sigh. He simply sat with the kind of composed tension only military discipline could forge, waiting.
It wasn’t just the lateness.
It was him.
Feliciano had been avoiding him lately. Not in obvious ways, he still sent messages, still doodled silly little drawings and sent them to Ludwig. He still waved across the room when they passed at briefings. But something about them had shifted. It had been subtle at first. A silence stretched too long in between jokes. A missed chance to sit beside each other. A warm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Ludwig wasn’t good at feelings. He was even worse at expressing them. But he wasn’t stupid.
He missed him.
And he hated that he missed him like this.
The door creaked open.
“Mi dispiace, mi dispiace, I know I’m late!”
Feliciano stumbled into the room like a whirlwind of sunbeams and papers, cheeks flushed pink from the wind outside, curls bouncing as he hurried toward the table. He clutched a cappuccino in one hand and his folder under the other arm. A strap of his bag slipped off his shoulder and he juggled it back into place with a muttered “scusami.”
“Morning,” Arthur muttered, eyeing him over a cup of black tea.
Feliciano reached his chair that was right beside Ludwig, of course.. and sank into it with a relieved sigh. “Grazie, grazie,” he said breathlessly. Then he turned, bright-eyed, to Ludwig. “Ciao, Ludwig!”
Ludwig’s gaze was already back on the agenda. “You’re nineteen minutes late.”
“I know! I had to run back to the hotel, I forgot my security badge. But I brought you something!”
Ludwig blinked, looking up as Feliciano reached into his bag and pulled out a napkin-wrapped something. It smelled like sugar and espresso.
“It’s a cornetto. From the little bakery on 38th Street you like.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to.” Feliciano grinned, pushing it toward him. “You never eat during these things. I thought maybe you’d want something sweet.”
Ludwig stared at it. His stomach twisted. Not from hunger.
He picked it up and set it to the side with mechanical precision. “Thank you.”
Feliciano beamed, and in the next breath was busy pulling out his notes, some of which had sketches in the margins, Ludwig noticed, of cats and tiny bowls of pasta.
The meeting began. Ludwig tried to focus. He really did.
Resolutions, policy proposals, numbers on climate benchmarks and infrastructure initiatives. These were things Ludwig usually thrived on. He took notes in crisp, bullet-pointed shorthand. He offered data from recent EU studies. He spoke precisely, his voice deep and even.
But Feliciano…
Feliciano was fidgeting.
Not in an obnoxious way. Just restless. He tilted his chair just slightly back. He tapped a pen against the rim of his cappuccino cup. Every so often, he leaned over to whisper something completely unrelated to the topic.
“Did you see what Francis is wearing today? That tie looks like a velvet curtain.”
Ludwig didn’t look up. “Focus.”
“And Lovino hasn’t said anything mean to me in an hour. I think he’s sick.”
“Feliciano.”
“I think this meeting would be better if we all had cats. Cats make people more happy, don’t you think?”
Ludwig pressed the pen harder against the page. “Please, Feliciano.”
Feliciano grinned and sank back into his chair. For a moment, he was quiet.
Then he nudged the edge of Ludwig’s paper. “You draw during meetings?”
“No.”
“Well, I do.”
Ludwig glanced at his open folder, where, sure enough, there was a small, loosely-sketched drawing covered the bottom corner. It was the room itself: Arthur looking exasperated, Alfred mid-yawn, Francis with stars around his head, and of course, Ludwig. Stiff as a board, with little storm clouds over his head.
And beside him: a tiny version of Feliciano, smiling up at him, offering a plate of pasta. There were hearts above them.
Ludwig didn’t know whether to be touched or mortified.
Feliciano leaned close, his voice lower this time. “Do you like it?”
Ludwig’s ears burned.
“It’s… accurate.”
Feliciano’s smile softened. “I was going to draw something meaner. But I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
Their eyes met. It was quiet for a second too long.
“Because I missed you,” Feliciano said.
Ludwig felt something crack inside him. He looked away, jaw tight.
They didn’t speak for the next twenty minutes.
But their knees brushed under the table.
And neither of them moved away.
The coffee break couldn’t come fast enough.
As soon as the moderator adjourned the room for thirty minutes, Ludwig stood from his chair a little too quickly. He ignored the curious glance Francis sent his way and walked out with brisk, controlled steps that belied the tightness in his chest.
He wasn’t sure why this particular meeting felt different. Maybe it was the way Feliciano had looked at him. Maybe it was the drawing. Or maybe it was the way Ludwig couldn’t stop thinking about how close their hands had come under the table, how easily it could have turned into something more if he hadn’t pulled away.
The hallway was cooler than the meeting room, lined with modern artwork and soft white lights. Ludwig passed the coffee bar without stopping. The noise followed him, Francis’s laugh, Alfred’s voice, Yao quietly chastising someone, probably Alfred, about chopstick etiquette.
Ludwig pushed open the glass door to the balcony at the end of the corridor and stepped into the chill of early evening.
The skyline was dimming into soft gold and steel gray. A breeze caught the hem of his coat as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the metal railing.
He stayed there in silence, breathing in the cold air, letting his eyes focus on the distance.
The door creaked again.
He didn’t have to turn to know.
“Ludwig,” came a familiar voice, softer now.
He closed his eyes for half a second before answering. “Feliciano.”
Footsteps behind him. Then a pause.
“I saw you leave. You didn’t get any coffee.”
“I wasn’t thirsty.”
Feliciano moved to stand beside him. Not too close. But close enough that Ludwig could feel the warmth radiating from him even in the wind.
“I thought maybe you left because of me.”
Ludwig stared ahead. “That would be ridiculous.”
“Would it?” Feliciano tilted his head, curls brushing his cheek. “Because we haven’t really talked lately. Not really.”
Ludwig said nothing. He watched a helicopter blink through the clouds.
“I’m sorry,” Feliciano said quietly. “If I did something wrong.”
“You didn’t.” The words came faster than he meant them to. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Feliciano turned to him. “Then why have things been weird between us?”
Ludwig exhaled slowly, fogging the air. “Because I don’t know what to do with this.”
“With what?”
Ludwig met his gaze. “With you. With how I feel around you. With… everything.”
Feliciano blinked, clearly startled. Then he laughed, but it wasn’t his usual laugh. It was gentler. Sadder.
“Ludwig,” he said, almost fondly. “You don’t have to say it like you’re confessing a crime.”
Ludwig huffed a sharp breath, almost a laugh. “I’m not good at this.”
“I know.”
“But I want to try.”
Feliciano’s eyebrows lifted, lips parting slightly. “Try?”
“There’s a restaurant,” Ludwig said, straightening. “Italian. Quiet. Not far from here. I made a reservation weeks ago. Just in case.”
“In case?”
“In case I ever worked up the courage.”
A breeze passed between them. Feliciano’s eyes softened.
“Are you asking me out?”
Ludwig nodded. “Tonight. After the meeting.”
There was a long beat of silence. Then:
“I’d love to,” Feliciano said, voice light, but trembling just slightly at the edges. “Thank you.”
Ludwig finally let himself breathe.
—
It was nearly seven when Ludwig arrived at the restaurant—an understated, romantic place with stone walls and wine bottles lined up behind the bar. Candlelight flickered on every table. Soft jazz filtered through the air like a scent.
He checked his watch twice. Straightened his collar. Adjusted the placement of the forks.
Then Feliciano arrived.
He wore a caramel-colored coat over a knit sweater the color of antique parchment, paired with dark slacks and shoes that scuffed slightly on the tile. His curls had been tucked behind one ear. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and when he smiled, Ludwig forgot what his own name sounded like.
“Ciao, Ludwig,” Feliciano said, sliding into the seat across from him. “This place is beautiful.”
“I thought you’d like it,” Ludwig said, clearing his throat.
They ordered a bottle of red wine. Feliciano asked the waiter a few questions in Italian, and Ludwig listened, understanding every word, admiring the fluency, the musical rhythm of it. He’d studied for years, but Feliciano spoke like it was breathing.
They ordered dinner, a tagliatelle dish for Feliciano, osso buco for Ludwig—and talked quietly as the sun fully set and the candles grew brighter.
Feliciano twirled his wine glass. “I’m glad you asked me. I was starting to think you didn’t feel the same.”
Ludwig looked up. “Feel the same?”
“As me.”
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he looked at the hand Feliciano had resting lightly on the tablecloth. Then he placed his own beside it.
“I think about you,” Ludwig said finally. “Too much.”
Feliciano’s eyes shimmered.
“I’ve spent months trying not to make it obvious,” Ludwig continued. “Trying to stay professional. But I… care about you. And it’s exhausting to pretend I don’t.”
Feliciano’s fingers crept forward, brushing Ludwig’s knuckles.
“I thought I was the only one.”
“You’re not.”
The silence that followed was golden and delicate, like the moment between lightning and thunder. Ludwig thought his heart might never stop pounding.
Then their food arrived, and the spell broke just long enough for them to eat.
Feliciano complimented the sauce. Ludwig actually smiled when Feliciano wiped a dot of cream from the corner of his mouth with a napkin and joked, “Look, I’m learning manners.”
They lingered long after the plates were cleared.
Feliciano’s wine glass was empty, his elbow on the table, chin resting on the back of his hand. He was watching Ludwig with a soft, unreadable expression, as if memorizing him. Ludwig, for his part, sat more relaxed than he had in weeks, his second shirt button undone, one hand curled loosely around the stem of his glass, though he hadn’t taken a sip in minutes.
The restaurant had emptied around them without their noticing. The buzz of other diners had faded to a soft hush. The candle at their table had burned low, its wax now a melted spiral puddle.
Ludwig looked up. “Do you want to walk?”
Feliciano blinked, then smiled slowly. “Yes.”
They stood, brushing past each other as they did. Ludwig paid—he’d insisted, quite firmly—and held the door open as they stepped into the cool night air.
The city was quieter than it had been earlier. Streetlights reflected on slick pavement from a brief rain. Somewhere in the distance, a saxophone played from an open window.
They walked without speaking at first, side by side, close enough to brush sleeves. Ludwig was conscious of every step. Every breath. His hand wanted to reach out. His shoulder wanted to lean in. But he didn’t.
Feliciano didn’t either. And yet, he didn’t pull away.
“So,” Feliciano said after a while, glancing at him sidelong, “was this a one-time dinner? Or do you think we could do it again sometime?”
Ludwig stopped walking.
Feliciano took another two steps before he realized and turned. “Ludwig?”
Ludwig’s face was unreadable. His eyes searched Feliciano’s, something restrained burning behind them.
“Why are you asking like you think I wouldn’t want to?”
Feliciano shrugged, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. You’re very good at… being unreadable.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
Feliciano tilted his head, voice softer now. “Then what are you trying to be?”
Ludwig looked down at the ground, at the way their shoes nearly touched. “Safe.”
The word fell between them with more weight than Feliciano expected.
He stepped closer. “From me?”
“No. From… what this means.”
Feliciano’s brows drew together. “Ludwig…”
“I’ve been afraid that if I let myself want this, really want it, I’ll get used to it. Start hoping. And then,” he paused, lips tight. “If something happens. If it ends. I don’t know how I’d go back to pretending again.”
Feliciano stared at him, throat thick.
“You think I’d let it end?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Ludwig admitted. “I’m not used to things that aren’t certain.”
Feliciano stepped forward again. They were chest-to-chest now, the streetlight throwing a warm halo behind them.
“I’m not certain of everything,” Feliciano said, “but I’m certain of you.”
Ludwig’s breath hitched. “Feliciano…”
“You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”
There was a pause. Then Ludwig’s hand lifted, hesitant at first, and then settled lightly against Feliciano’s cheek.
His thumb brushed just under his eye.
Feliciano leaned into it.
They stood like that in silence. And then slowly, Ludwig leaned down, his forehead resting against Feliciano’s. Their breaths mingled.
“I want to kiss you,” Ludwig murmured, almost inaudible.
Feliciano smiled, voice barely a whisper. “So kiss me.”
And he did.
If was a long, slow exhale of something that had been wound too tight for too long. The kind of kiss that came from months of waiting, of glances held too long, of hands brushing and pulling back.
Feliciano pressed forward, one hand gripping Ludwig’s lapel like he needed an anchor.
His other hand slid behind Feliciano’s back, drawing him closer. Feliciano tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He opened his mouth slightly and Ludwig followed, a low sound catching in his throat as their tongues met. Every second longer made Ludwig feel like he was falling, and for once, he didn’t try to catch himself.
When they broke apart, Feliciano’s hand remained on his chest. His breathing was uneven.
“Wow,” he whispered.
Ludwig nodded, stunned silent.
“Was that okay?” Feliciano asked after a moment.
Ludwig huffed a breath, eyes locked on him. “It was incredible.”
Feliciano leaned his forehead to Ludwig’s again. “Can we… go somewhere else?”
They stood there for a long second, just outside the glow of the restaurant’s front lights. Neither of them moved. Feliciano was still too close, and Ludwig wasn’t backing away.
Ludwig cleared his throat. “My hotel isn’t far. Five minutes, maybe less.”
Feliciano looked up at him with his eyes wide, but not uncertain. His voice came quiet. “Can I come with you?”
Ludwig froze for half a heartbeat, searching his face. “Are you sure?”
Feliciano’s hand brushed Ludwig’s coat sleeve. “Yeah,” he said. “I want to.”
They walked in silence. Not because they didn’t want to speak, but because the air between them was already saying too much. Every glance sideways felt heavier than it should.
The hotel was quiet when they entered. A late hour, past the dinner crowd. Ludwig tapped the elevator button with the kind of control he always defaulted to when his heart was racing. Feliciano rocked on his heels beside him, chewing the inside of his cheek, glancing up every few seconds like he wanted to say something.
But neither of them broke the silence until the door to Ludwig’s room clicked shut behind them.
Ludwig turned just in time to see Feliciano step closer, hesitating only a second before reaching up, gently taking the lapel of Ludwig’s coat.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Feliciano said, his voice soft, but sure. “I think you know that.”
“I do now,” Ludwig said, throat tight.
Feliciano didn’t pull him down, he just leaned up, slow, giving Ludwig time to stop him.
He didn’t.
Their lips met. Tentative, at first. Careful.
But not for long.
Ludwig’s hands came up, cupping Feliciano’s face, thumbs grazing over cheekbones as their mouths pressed together harder, breath mingling in short, gasping exhales between kisses. Feliciano gave a small noise against his lips and Ludwig groaned, arms pulling him closer on instinct.
Feliciano’s hands slid up, over the front of Ludwig’s shirt, fisting the collar slightly like he needed something to hold onto. Their teeth bumped. Ludwig tried to slow it down, he did, but every time Feliciano tilted his head just so, every time his tongue slid forward just a little too confidently, Ludwig’s control splintered more.
He stumbled back a step, dragging Feliciano with him until the backs of his legs hit the bed.
They paused. Breathing hard. Foreheads nearly touching.
Ludwig’s voice was low. “We don’t have to—”
“I know,” Feliciano said, just as breathless. His cheeks were flushed, lips red and kiss-bitten. “But I want to keep kissing you. If that’s okay.”
Ludwig nodded once. “Yes. That’s… that’s more than okay.”
Feliciano smiled, that same soft, crinkly-eyed smile Ludwig had missed for too long. Then he leaned in again, this time pushing Ludwig gently down with the kiss, hands splaying across his chest as they collapsed back onto the bed.
Their mouths found each other again, sloppier now. Feliciano kissed him a little clumsy, a little fast, licking into Ludwig’s mouth like he didn’t care how it looked, only how it felt. Ludwig responded in kind, his hands on Feliciano’s hips, then his back, then anywhere he could reach. His fingers gripped, curled, held like he was afraid to let go.
Feliciano pulled back once, just barely, both of them panting.
“You always smell like clean laundry,” he murmured, laughing into Ludwig’s throat. “I missed it.”
Ludwig huffed something close to a laugh. “You smell like wine and sugar.”
“Romantic.”
“It is.”
Feliciano kissed him again, slower, but no less urgent. Their noses bumped. Feliciano muttered “sorry,” then kissed him harder to make up for it.
They kissed like everything they hadn’t said for months was pouring out between their mouths—wet, uneven, hands wandering, breathing erratic.
And then, right in the middle of it, Feliciano broke the kiss. His lips were slick, his voice a little shaky.
“Ludwig…”
Ludwig blinked down at him. “Yes?”
Feliciano’s cheeks were pink, curls a little messy, eyes wide and glassy, but there was something clearer behind them now. Intent. Nerve.
He reached up, tugged gently at Ludwig’s loosened tie. “Can I ask you for something?”
Ludwig stilled. “…Of course.”
Feliciano swallowed, eyes flicking to the tie in his hands. Then back to Ludwig’s.
“Use this,” he said quietly. “Tie my wrists.”
Ludwig stared at him.
For a second too long.
Feliciano flushed a little deeper, but he didn’t look away. “If you want to,” he added quickly. “You don’t have to. I just—”
“Feliciano,” Ludwig said, voice hoarse. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend I don’t want you.”
Ludwig sat back slightly, just enough to reach for the tie. He pulled it slowly from around his neck, the silk whispering between his collar and skin. He looked at it in his hands like it was something more than just fabric, like it was something symbolic.
Then he looked at Feliciano.
“Wrists together?” he asked, quiet but steady.
Feliciano nodded and lifted his arms, offering them with a kind of nervous trust that made Ludwig’s chest ache. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t putting on an act. He meant it.
Ludwig took his wrists gently, like they were something delicate. He brought them above his head, then looped the tie around them. He knotted it in place with care, his movements steady, reverent. His fingertips brushed the inside of Feliciano’s wrists, and Feliciano shivered.
“Too tight?” Ludwig asked.
Feliciano shook his head. “No. I like it.”
His face was flushed beneath Ludwig, curls fanned out against the pillows, chest rising and falling fast. His shirt was rucked up, his lips red from kissing, his wrists flexing lightly above his head. The tie wasn’t tight. It didn’t need to be. It was the fact of it—the deliberate way Ludwig had done it, the way Feliciano had asked for it, the way their eyes met now, heat simmering between them like the air was too thick to breathe.
“You like being held like this?” Ludwig asked, voice low, rough at the edges.
Feliciano nodded, a soft whimper catching in his throat. “Mhmm. Only by you.”
Ludwig swore under his breath in German and bent down to kiss the edge of Feliciano’s jaw, then his throat, then lower. He dragged his mouth across warm skin, teeth grazing collarbone, tongue flattening over the racing pulse under Feliciano’s ear. Feliciano arched up under him, breath catching.
“Ludwig—”
“Lie still,” Ludwig growled, one hand pressing his hip down.
Feliciano whined, head tipping back against the pillows, wrists trembling slightly in the tie. “You’re so bossy,” he breathed, a breathless laugh breaking between gasps. “Mi fai impazzire…”
Ludwig licked down the middle of his chest, then kissed hard, just above his waistband. “Good,” he muttered. “Let me do this.”
Feliciano’s thighs twitched. “Holy shit… okay.”
Ludwig sat back just enough to pull Feliciano’s shirt up and over his head, revealing flushed skin, the faint curve of muscle, the soft line of his stomach. He stared for a second. His hands ran slow up Feliciano’s sides, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch like this.
“You’re beautiful,” he said low, almost involuntary.
Feliciano looked away for a second, flustered, his mouth twitching toward a smile. “You mean it?”
Ludwig leaned back down, lips brushing his cheek. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
And then his mouth was on Feliciano’s again. Tongue pushing deep, lips dragging wetly against each other. Feliciano whimpered into him, body writhing under Ludwig’s, wrists still bound above his head, thighs parting.
Ludwig grinded against him once, slowly just to feel the heat between them.
Feliciano gasped. “Ludwig…”
“I’ve wanted this,” Ludwig muttered into his mouth. “Since Berlin. Since Vienna. Since every meeting where you sat too close and smiled like you didn’t know what you were doing to me.”
Feliciano kissed him in response, almost angry with want. “I did know,” he whispered. “I just wanted to see if you’d ever break.”
Ludwig kissed down his chest again, slow and wet, pausing to suck a mark into the side of his ribs that made Feliciano yelp. “I’m breaking now.”
“Good.”
Feliciano tugged at the silk tie again, wrists pinned above his head, stretched against the pillows, mouth open as he panted through another kiss. His legs wrapped loosely around Ludwig’s waist, pulling him closer, hips canting up in helpless, teasing circles that made Ludwig groan.
“I thought Germans were supposed to be composed,” Feliciano breathed, smiling, flushed and wrecked.
Ludwig answered with a sharp thrust of his hips that knocked the breath out of him.
“I was composed,” Ludwig growled. “You ruined that.”
Feliciano whimpered, back arching. “Bravissimo.”
Ludwig leaned down, dragging his teeth over Feliciano’s jaw. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”
Feliciano tilted his head with a shameless little grin, wrists twisting in the silk. “I know I am.”
Ludwig’s hand slid down, fingers gripping the inside of his thigh, pushing it open wider, watching the way Feliciano’s body moved under him needy, restless, begging without words. He’d always been like this, Ludwig thought.
He dipped his head and bit into Feliciano’s collarbone, just hard enough to leave a mark. Feliciano cried out, eyes fluttering, body arching up into him.
“Scheiße,” Ludwig muttered against his skin. “You like it rough.”
“I like you rough,” Feliciano whispered, voice thick with heat. “Don’t hold back.”
The words hit Ludwig like a punch to the gut. He growled and sat up just long enough to yank Feliciano’s slacks down with both hands, dragging them off with a kind of reckless urgency that made Feliciano gasp.
“Ludwig—!”
“Quiet,” Ludwig said, “You wanted this.”
Feliciano’s wrists tugged at the tie again, testing. “Still do.”
“You’re going to drive me insane.”
“That’s the plan.”
Ludwig laughed then leaned back down and devoured his mouth, tongue pushing deep, teeth catching on Feliciano’s bottom lip and dragging it. It was messy, wet, the kind of kissing that felt like claiming.
And Feliciano moaned for it.
Writhed for it.
“Please,” he gasped when one of Ludwig’s hands grabbed his thigh, holding him down, as the other palmed at his erection. “Do something—Ludwig—”
“Say it,” Ludwig murmured against his neck, licking a stripe up the skin. “Say exactly what you want.”
Feliciano shuddered. “Fuck me.”
Ludwig froze.
Then looked down at him, dark-eyed, breathing hard.
“You don’t get to say things like that unless you mean it.”
“I do mean it,” Feliciano moaned, arching into him again. “You hold everything in like it’s going to kill you. Let it out. I can take it. I want it.”
Ludwig swallowed hard, jaw tight.
His hands moved fast, dragging his own shirt off over his head, and his mouth left a trail of bruises down Feliciano’s chest.
Feliciano rocked his hips up into him, grinding shamelessly, tied hands fisting in the sheets above his head as he whimpered against Ludwig’s mouth.
“Please—” he gasped, hips bucking up again. “I need—fuck, Ludwig—I need more.”
Ludwig’s hand slipped between them, palming Feliciano’s erection through the last scrap of fabric, fingers dragging up slow, deliberate.
Feliciano shook. “Porca miseria—”
Ludwig groaned against his throat, nipping the skin. He then began sliding his fingers beneath the waistband now, taking his boxers off. dragging a whine straight out of Feliciano’s lungs.
Feliciano threw his head back. “Don’t stop—”
“Beg me,” Ludwig said, voice sharp and low, hand stilling.
Feliciano writhed beneath him, wrists twisting in the silk, eyes wild. “Ludwig— please,” he gasped. “Please, I want you—I want all of you—I want to feel you ruin me.”
Ludwig bit his neck again, hard enough to leave a mark. “Good boy.”
Ludwig hovered above him, breath warm against Feliciano’s flushed cheek, his fingers trailing down the side of his face.
“Open your mouth,” he said, voice rough.
Feliciano obeyed without hesitation. His lips parted, eyes locked on Ludwig’s as he slid two fingers into his mouth. He closed around them with a soft, guttural sound, tongue immediately slicking over them as he sucked slow at first, like he was savoring it. Like he wanted Ludwig to feel it.
Ludwig watched every movement with dark, heavy-lidded eyes, his breath getting shorter as Feliciano hollowed his cheeks around his fingers, moaning low in his throat, so willing, so ready to be taken apart.
“Just like that,” Ludwig muttered.
Feliciano’s body trembled slightly under the weight of Ludwig’s stare. When Ludwig finally pulled his fingers free, they left a glistening trail of spit that broke only when he brought his hand lower.
Feliciano’s breath hitched. His legs fell open farther without being asked.
He worked Feliciano open with a precision that made the Italian cry out—slick fingers, slow strokes, dragging it out just long enough to make him tremble. Feliciano gasped and rocked his hips down against Ludwig’s hand, moaning through gritted teeth, legs falling open wider like he couldn’t take it but didn’t want it to end.
Ludwig whispered filth in German under his breath, too far gone to censor himself, voice tight and deep as he rutted against Feliciano’s thigh. “You’re so fucking pathetic,” he growled. “You like being tied up like this? Wrists red, legs spread, completely at my mercy?”
Feliciano nodded desperately, back arching, mouth open, *shameless.* “Yes—yes, Ludwig, yes—”
By the time Ludwig finally slid inside him, slow and thick, the stretch had Feliciano’s eyes rolling back, a strangled cry escaping his throat. His thighs trembled around Ludwig’s waist, wrists clenching in the tie as he tried to breathe.
Ludwig held still, chest heaving, head bowed. “Tell me to stop.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Feliciano gasped.
And then Ludwig moved.
The rhythm started slow and hard, thrusts that knocked the breath from Feliciano’s lungs, each one deeper than the last. But it didn’t stay slow for long.
Feliciano choked, messy, panting Ludwig’s name like a mantra, sweat slick down his spine as his body rocked with every thrust.
“You’re taking it so well,” Ludwig snarled, pounding into him now, the bed creaking beneath them. “So fucking tight for me, fuck, Feliciano—*”
“I love it,” Feliciano sobbed, voice breaking. “I love the way you feel—I love being yours—I—Ludwig, please—”
“Cum for me,” Ludwig growled. “Now.”
Feliciano moaned Ludwig’s name as his back arched off the bed, thighs shaking, skin flushed and glowing in the low light. He pulsed around Ludwig with every wave of it, gasping, twitching, completely undone.
And Ludwig followed with a whimper, slamming deep one final time, eyes locked on Feliciano’s face as he came, panting, breath rough and broken against his neck.
Feliciano hadn’t even caught his breath before Ludwig kissed him again.
Feliciano groaned into his mouth, his thighs were still trembling, oversensitive, but that didn’t stop him from grinding back against Ludwig’s half-hard length, already swelling again between them.
Ludwig growled, and flipped him.
One swift, strong motion—Feliciano on his stomach now, cheek to the sheets, ass up, knees pulled under him. He gasped, breath punched out of him, but didn’t complain. Didn’t even try to catch his breath. Just moaned and pushed his hips back.
“You know what that mouth of yours does to me,” Ludwig hissed.
Feliciano grinned against the pillow. “That’s why I use it.”
Ludwig spit in his hand and stroked himself once, already hard again, then reached down and spread Feliciano open with both hands. No teasing this time. No slow buildup. Just a sharp, hard thrust that knocked a cry straight out of Feliciano’s throat.
“Shit—!” Feliciano choked. “Fuck—Ludwig—”
Ludwig grunted as he buried himself deep again, hips snapping with brutal rhythm, the slap of skin echoing through the room. He held Feliciano by the hips, rough grip digging bruises into his skin, angling deeper with every thrust.
“You take it so fucking well,” Ludwig said, voice a snarl. “Look at you—moaning into the sheets like you need this.”
“I do,” Feliciano gasped, body rocking. “I *need* you, fuck, just like this—”
Ludwig leaned down, one hand fisting in Feliciano’s hair and pulling his head back to kiss the curve of his jaw. “You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered in his ear. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one.”
Feliciano moaned, “Yes, yours— Only yours.”
He fucked him harder now, slamming into him so deep Feliciano saw stars, his voice cracking on every cry of Ludwig’s name. It didn’t last long and when Ludwig bit down hard on his shoulder and jerked his hips one final time, they both came.
Feliciano came untouched, cock twitching against the sheets as his whole body went rigid, his moan punched out from somewhere deep and guttural.
Ludwig’s jaw clenched, body shuddering hard against Feliciano’s back, breath ripped from his chest as he pushed through the last few shaky thrusts before collapsing on top of him, utterly spent.
They laid there in silence.
Only their breathing moved the room.
And carefully, Ludwig kissed the back of Feliciano’s neck, then eased out of him with a hiss of overstimulation and tenderness. Feliciano winced but didn’t complain, just sagged into the mattress, body loose and sore and glowing with heat.
Ludwig got up first, padding barefoot to the bathroom to grab a warm towel.
When Ludwig came back, Feliciano hadn’t moved. He was still sprawled face-down across the sheets, arms tucked under the pillow as if he were trying to disappear inside it. The faint red marks at his wrists caught Ludwig’s eye. He sat down at the edge of the bed and carefully drew Feliciano’s hands out from where he’d hidden them. The tie was still knotted around them.
Ludwig worked at the knot slowly, not wanting to tug or pull too hard. When the silk slipped free at last, he rubbed his thumbs over the faint impressions left on Feliciano’s skin, almost as though he could smooth them away with touch alone.
Feliciano gave a small, muffled sound into the pillow, something between a sigh and a hum, and let his hands fall slack against the sheets. Only then did Ludwig pick up the towel he’d brought. He warmed it between his palms before pressing it gently to Feliciano’s skin. Careful strokes moved across his inner thighs and his stomach. Each pass was slow.
“You okay?” Ludwig asked, voice softer now.
Feliciano nodded against the pillow. “Mmhm.”
Ludwig pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Tell me if anything starts to hurt, okay?”
“I like the way it hurts,” Feliciano mumbled sleepily.
Ludwig didn’t respond with words. He just leaned down and kissed the back of Feliciano’s hand.
They climbed under the covers in silence.
Feliciano nestled close, limbs tangling again. Ludwig held him to his chest, warm and steady, one big hand stroking slow, calming circles down his back.
“You’re still holding me so tight,” Feliciano murmured, his words muffled against Ludwig’s chest.
Ludwig’s grip faltered for a moment before he answered, voice low. “I don’t want to let you go.”
Feliciano tilted his head up, smiling with heavy-lidded eyes. “Good. I don’t want you to.” He pressed a small kiss to Ludwig’s throat, lingering there like it was the most natural place to rest.
“You don’t have to be so careful with me,” Feliciano went on, his voice softer now.
“I’m not being careful,” Ludwig said after a pause. His hand smoothed gently over Feliciano’s back. “I just… want to treat you the way you deserve.”
Feliciano’s smile widened, eyes drifting shut. “You’re doing good at it.”
Ludwig felt his chest ease at that, he tucked Feliciano closer. Holding onto each other, warm and tired, they drifted off to sleep with soft smiles still on their lips.