Saturday, February 1, 2014

A Germany Lemon -- Surrender Your Soul



Character: Germany

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: Akasma, long dark hair, sea green eyes, Represents Azerbaijan

Inspiration: Valentine's Day anonymous fills open on the 4th, just to let everyone know.  Since I don't have a boyfriend I've decided to wallow in my self misery by writing smut and eating heaps of chocolate.  :3  Hope you all enjoy this one!


The first shard of morning is threaded with the dull ache of a hangover that makes Akasma cringe and bury her face into her pillow.  She lingers there, like that, for a long minute that seems to extend into forever, and then the second shard of morning hits her like a delicious wave of fresh air.  Only it isn't fresh air that makes Akasma slowly sit up, but rather the scent of sausages and bacon and eggs that pulls her out of bed.
She throws her arms above her head and tilts her body into an arch.  Her stomach is fiercely growling and her head still pounds from the remnants of alcohol she'd consumed the night before.  Outside, there is a very thin layer of snow ghosting the ground tentatively, and she shivers a little as she searches for her robe.  She ties it at the front as she pad off to the bathroom to search for a couple of pills.
When Akasma steps out of the bedroom and raises her eyes to the figure of the man waiting for her, she smiles.  Ludwig doesn't notice her.  His expression is set in its usual hard shell, but there is an indescribable softness that radiates from him.  He seems totally at ease, even with his white muscle shirt and messy blond hair. 
She steps forward and his eyes dart to her, quickly assessing her movements and the way she's softly massaging her temples.  Akasma walks right over to him and fall into his chest like it's her place in the world, like she's got every right to be there.  And he chuckles a little because he knows how she hates mornings, especially when combined with hangovers.  He brushes her fingers away and replaces them with his, pressing gentle but firm circles over her skin.  She melts with a sigh and he chuckles again.
"I told you not to drink so much.  Crazy woman," Ludwig murmurs, swooping down to press a rather uncharacteristically sweet kiss to the top of his lover's head.  It makes her smile giddily and hum out in agreement.  Her heart flutters at the way his voice cascades through the air, all musk and gravel, like heavy incense. 
"I couldn't let you drink alone," is all she responds with, and she wraps her arms around his waist, pressing herself closer to him.  He makes a soft, pleased noise that she know comes from the way he can feel everything, her entire body.  She is bare beneath the robe, a little fact that she figured he'd appreciate.
Ludwig's fingers stop.  He instead tangles one hand through Akasma's hair and the other slips down her back to fit into her side.  He tips her head back and looks down at her, his bright blue eyes searching hers, her expression, her form.  They linger a moment too long at her breasts, at the way the silk fabric of the robe dips against them.  His cheeks darken just the tiniest bit and she smiles at the way he can still retain some form of innocence even after they've been together for so long.  Then she leans forward to kiss the side of his mouth, because she can't help herself when his eyes get like that.  All big and dazzling, a quilted blue mass of emotion and desire.
He sighs out and kisses her harder, more substantially.  The space between them becomes all but nonexistent and it is delicious, perfectly wonderful and very distracting.  But not distracting enough.  Her stomach puts a fast stop on the desire which is beginning to pound through them, and she pulls away with a laugh and a blush.  Ludwig chuckles, looking down at her with eyes that say, 'this is not over, not at all.'
"I'm starving!" she exclaims, pulling all the way back from him before she changes her mind.  Akasma goes to the cabinet to pull out two plates and then back to the stovetop to fill them.  As she stands there, dividing up the food, Ludwig slips his arms around her waist and huddles behind her, watching.  His eyes close and he tilts his face into her hair, breathing out.  There is something in the way his body molds to hers, a certain emotion that starkly breezes through her as he holds onto her.  It makes Akasma stop and look over her shoulder, slightly worried.
"Ludwig?" she wonders, confused.  His expression is not peaceful anymore, but rather a little pained.  He smiles at her concerned look and kisses her cheek, oddly affectionate this morning.  Then he murmurs something that makes her heart slow down in disbelief.  "I just can't believe…that someone like you could…" he trails off, leaving the rest of his words hanging in the air between them.
She puts the plate down and turns.  Akasma searches his expression slowly, idly.  Her hands come up to palm his cheeks, brushing over his cheekbones, lips, forehead.  He rarely shows this side willingly, this hesitance that he normally keeps under lock and key.  He hates being perceived as weak in any way, especially emotionally, but it isn't the first time she's heard him speak similar words.  That he thinks so little of himself makes her heart ache.
"I love you," she whispers, and his eyes jerk up.  He'd been avoiding her gaze so far, probably out of embarrassment, but now he boldly watches her, looking for signs of hesitance.  She has none.  Akasma leans in and presses a kiss to his chin, jaw.  Her fingers drift gently down his neck to play with the base of his hairline.  The stubble of his cheeks makes her heart explode, and all at once she isn't hungry anymore.  There is something much more important than something so superficial. 
She kisses his mouth and against it whispers, "I love you," again.  He feels the words linger over his skin and it sets his entire body ablaze.  His hands are pulling her closer before he even knows what's going on, and then he's kissing her back and whispering a questioning, "You love me?" into the kiss.
She kisses him harder.  Her fingers slip beneath the white muscle shirt and Ludwig suddenly can't breathe.  She's got him pressed up between his emotions and her body.  The desire which pounds fiercely through him makes him feel like drowning in the love that he can't believe she has for him.  But it is so great, so profound, that taking it and drowning in it is the only way he can hope to survive the fall.
She whispers, "I love you," again, trying to respond to both his words and his body.  Fire is weaving an incessant path through them and she knows it's hopeless, useless to stop it.  So instead of trying, she only pushes it harder, sets it hotter, makes it blaze faster through them.  She pulls away from the wild kiss and looks into the dilated mess of his eyes, and then murmur out a low, shaky, "Should I show you?"  And when he nods slowly moments later and pulls her back in, the air around them all but implodes from the intensity.
The next moments are blurred and marked by that intensity.  The wild, untamed way she suddenly lurches her body against his and kiss him makes the world spin round and round endlessly.  They lose balance on everything, on the morning and breakfast and all the other things that suddenly don't matter anymore.  All Akasma can focus on is the heat of Ludwig's skin, the tension of his body, the ferocity of his mouth as he takes her and drags her down into the farthest reaches of his passion.
She moans a little because she suddenly feels like her entire body is breaking and melting into his.  It is only a kiss, and yet the tremendous energy of it makes her heart spur her on, sets her skin on fire, makes her thoughts splutter out and die.  All at once she wants him more than she ever did before, wants every single little part of him, every part that is bathed with insecurity and hesitance.  She wants to wash that all away and show him how much she loves him, how much she wants to be with him forever.
So Akasma pulls away, somehow.  The willpower it takes to do so nearly shatters her, but she pulls her lips from him, pulls her body from his body, and drags her hands down his muscled arms.  Gently, she takes his hands away from her waist and looks into his eyes, which are suddenly questioning, suddenly even more hesitant than they were moments before. 
But she only smiles, smiles and whispers out a soft, welcoming, "Let me show you."  And slowly she steps back, tugging on his hand, pulling him with her as she makes her way to the bedroom and the heavenly bliss of white sheets and a soft mattress.
His eyes are no longer hesitant.  By the time they reach that mattress, he has transformed into something greater, as a butterfly would transform from its cocoon.  He lets his lover push him onto the bed, watching closely.  When he settles himself at the center of the bed, atop those white sheets, Akasma has to hold her breath because he looks so perfect.  His hair is splayed out on the pillow and the morning sun makes his eyes catch fire like melted diamonds.  Her heart is all but a shaky mess as she looks down at him, warmly, with a sort of awe that makes Ludwig wonder what she's thinking.
But she only smiles and reaches for her robe, looking directly into Ludwig's eyes as she slowly undoes it.  The knot slides loose and the front opens, skin peeking out from the rich, colorful fabric.  He swallows thickly, mesmerized even though he's already seen everything she's got to offer, and has already memorized the exact contours of her body, and the way it makes him feel like he's dying and living all at once.  But still he can't look away, can't stop himself from staring at the slow progress of falling fabric.  When the entirety of her is bare, he pushes himself up onto his elbows and stares, feeling his heart spluttering madly against his chest. 
She looks into those eyes of his and very slowly, sinks herself onto the mattress and crawls over his form.  He follows every single movement she make.  The tension in the air is crippling, prone to the sort of lovemaking that is both sensual and futuristic, like an auspicious sort of fortune.
She takes that tension and makes it bolder, hotter.  By now, she is an expert when it comes to pleasing her lover.  She has uncovered his deepest wishes, his darkest desires.  But she sheds all that she knows because she wants something else from this moment, something more sentimental that will stay with him when she is not around to show him her love firsthand.  She leans down to kiss him, pushing him onto his back, and curls her legs around his.  Her lower body molds against his and she can feel the beginnings of an erection tenting up his boxers.  As she kisses him, Akasma slowly circles her hips and he moans, hands drifting up to capture those hips and to tug them down harder, faster, more deliberately.
His fingers pursue her skin like a hunter chasing prey.  Suddenly the hesitance is gone, vanished and replaced with a hurried despair that sort of dances a jagged path over flesh and bone.  Ludwig's hands are suddenly dragging up her hips, smoothing over her lower back, trailing a fiery path up her spine.  He presses her into his chest when he reaches her upper back, taking a moment to appreciate the way her breasts mold oh so easily to the muscle shirt he still hasn't taken off.  Then his fingers are slowly tracing up her face, her jaw, her chin.  One ducks into her hair and tangles itself there.  His thumb brushes over her lips.  His eyes lock with the passion curling in her gaze.
Perhaps there is nothing quite as deviously, maliciously breathtaking than being completely bare when your lover is not.  Ludwig sees everything, remembers everything that makes Akasma his and his alone.  His eyes are open skies and she's begging to fly into them.  And yet, the carefully displaced balance of power strips away all her immediate wishes and forces her to focus on his, instead. 
"You're still wearing clothes," she murmurs, and then sees a flash of amusement dart quickly through her lover's eyes.  She smiles crookedly down at him and he tightens his mouth, just like the way he does when he's trying not to laugh.  She does suppose her blatantly obvious statement has momentarily lowered her wit, but then there isn't much need for something like that in this situation.  And it forces to Ludwig to address to matter, so Akasma is pleased.
He hums a little, a low sound that scrapes the deeper octaves of his voice, and brushes a thumb over her temple.  When he responds, his voice is a cascade of incoherent emotion, laced through with desire and something darker: a challenge.  He smiles but it isn't a smile, it's a smirk and a delightful narrowing of his eyes, and it makes Akasma more excited than she'd like to admit.  "What are you going to do about it, Frau?"
Oh there's a lot of things she'd like to do about it.  But she brushes all her complicated desires away and just laughs.  She presses her forehead against his and he pushes his lips up in response, kissing her in a surprisingly gentle manner.  Against his mouth, she breathes, "I'm going to take your clothes off.  Then I'm gonna make delicious, hot, utterly incredible love to you, and I won't be able to walk for ages but it's the price I'll just have to pay."  She gives a little shrug, a small tip and tilt of her bare shoulders, like it's an unfortunate circumstance but one she's already accepted. 
Ludwig swallows and stares at her.  He chuckles because he wasn't expecting a response quite like that, but he isn't complaining because she's put a delightful image in his head and he'd like to see it through.  So he merely nods and whispers, "You'd better get a move on, then."  And she kisses him again, smiling that crooked smile that has the startling potential to make Ludwig's heart shatter brilliantly.
Her hand dips into his shirt and she traces up his body, following the path of his muscles.  All the while their lips move seamlessly, hurriedly, as if they can hardly wait to get all this foreplay business over with.  Ludwig slowly sits up and gives Akasma the chance to lift the muscle shirt over his head.  Then he suddenly shifts her beneath him, rolling her onto her back and tucking her body against his.  She gives a started sort of laugh that is instantly cut off by Ludwig's needy lips, and the laugh turns into a low, drawn out moan that resonates through their entire bodies.  She sinks down into the pillows, arms locked around Ludwig's shoulders, one leg propped up against his waist, and Akasma can hardly breathe for all the intense desire that hurtles through her.
Since he seems preoccupied with kissing her senseless, she takes it upon herself to deal with the last bit of his clothes.  She hooks her fingers into the hem of his boxers and peels them away.  He moves a hand to push them the rest of the way off and shifts them off the bed, then hooks his hand around her knee and heaves their lower bodies together.  And just like that, the spell is shattered by firm reality.  The feel of his hard erection and her wet core makes them both open their eyes and stare at each other.  They stay like that for a moment before they rush forward, kissing heatedly, dragging their hips against each other, rubbing friction into their bodies.
It is a beautiful union of skin, limbs thrown over each other, fingers scrabbling, lips dragging and pulling and devouring.  Perhaps there is nothing in this world that is perfect, but this is as close to perfection as they are ever going to get.  Until, of course, Ludwig stops kissing her for a moment, pulls her leg higher up his waist, and rubs his tip over the cascade of wet heat at her core.  He breathes out and watches her expression closely, whispering, "I need you now, liebling." [1]  And she blinks up at him as though silently saying, 'then take me, take me and drag me into that heart of yours'.  And he does.
The first thrust is not a thrust but a slow draw of his cock against her inner walls.  It is testing the waters of their love, it is being careful and gentle so as not to hurt her.  When the second thrust replaces the first, Akasma sees it as a slow build of slightly hesitant passion.  She also sees how hard Ludwig is trying to stay slow.  She settles herself down beneath him, shifting her legs until they are near to plastered around his waist, tugging her hands up around his neck, pulling his head down to press against hers.  And she softly urges him onward, "Go faster, Ludwig." 
He does, slowly at first but with a sharp increase of pace.  And then, all too soon, he is grunting out and his hips are surging forward to meet hers, and he is pushing her down against crisp sheets and the very depths of his startlingly sincere love.  And she, for lack of a better term, is drowning, utterly.  Because when he takes the situation in control like this, when he decides he wants to have a little bit of power over her, Akasma is far more turned on than she could ever express in words alone.
"L-Ludwig!" she cries, back arching just a little off the mattress.  Her lover's eyes take in the sight of her and he lets out a strangled sort of growl that she feels everywhere.  One firm hand descends upon her breast and he buries his head into her neck, thrusting and touching and breathing life into her.  And she grasps his shoulders tightly and whimpers out his name again and again, feeling her body beginning to explode in delightful shivers. 
"A-Ah…!" she cries.  Ludwig's hand slides down her abdomen and his lips turn to hers, lightly brushing over her mouth as he presses their foreheads together.  He sees the shattering taking over her body, sees it in the way her eyes are brimming with pleasure, and he rushes faster to accommodate her and himself, too.  To urge his own festering orgasm into existence. 
"Gott," he mutters when she cries out suddenly and throws her head back.  He holds his weight up with one hand and drags the other to her hips, pushing her down as he surges into her.  He can feel her pulsing around his cock and it's delicious, the intense feel of her.  And when she finally comes it's beautiful and inspiring and hot all at once, and it makes Ludwig moan softly and lean back, holding her hips with both hands and dragging her into his orgasm with a force that makes her blind, delirious.
He spills himself into her in the midst of that force, thrusting heavily for a moment before sighing out and slowing down.  His hips rock forward sporadically, wantonly, and then he blinks down at his lover's spent form and smiles.  Her arms have flipped up above her head and she's pressing her face against one of them, peering up at him as she watches the remnant of his orgasm filter through his expression.  When she sees him staring, Akasma smirks and reaches one hand out, pressing it against his chest.  He reaches out too and holds it there, above his heart, and they both remain silent as they marvel at the fast pulse of his heartbeat.
Then… "Come here," she breathes throatily, lowly.  He shifts a little and then lowers himself down at her side, resting his head against her chest.  His fingers trace little shapes into her side and she tugs him closer, running her hand down his spine.  He sighs out and she thinks she knows why.  The total relief, the satiation of their coupling hits them squarely, with deadly certainty.  It is the morning and they still haven't eaten the breakfast that is waiting for them, probably cold by now.  But they are loathe to move, loathe to shatter the stillness of their love. 
So they don't.  Instead they just let the morning sun peer at them, wash pale light over their forms through the windows.  Later they will restart their day properly, but for now they are content to remain just where they are, pressed together as lovers.


Translations:
[1] Liebling: Love

~~~

3 comments:

  1. the whole belly rumbling at that moment is so going to happen to me one day lol
    Great story yet again! ^_^

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  2. that was awesome!!! hey I really like your stories. is it possible that I may request a south at least lemon with my OC Athens Greece??

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