[Oneshot Fanfic - Germany/South Italy] The Importance of Strategy in War
A battle between powerful nations that serve to decide the fate of billions of human beings, generations, and the course of time. Regardless of hate or of respect, there would always be war in order to decide who shall win the right to stay within the ever changing balance of the world and change it according to their ideals.
Ludwig had experienced more than war in his lifetime. As a nation he had experienced the fear of failing and ceasing to exist; to scatter the children of the German nation and turn them into a nameless people. He had fought, tooth and nail, for his right to exist and most of all to appease his leaders who brought him towards his destiny. His discipline and obedience stretched that far.
It was his job, he told himself once, this was what he was supposed to do. And he'd been pretty good at anything related to war back in the day, when everything was still young... the days when battle strategies, raising morale, creating clear objectives, and a strict word would save his and his precious people's existence...
Of course, he had never expected that war would extend toward his bedroom.
More or less, that is. In his bedroom.
When Lovino had moved in with him once their (sadomasochistic) relationship had taken them to a place deeper than they had previously expected, Ludwig had felt relieved. And happy. He had never realized that the older Italy brother would bother to take a shine to him after their initial courtship (if he could call getting beaten up a form of courtship) - in fact, after said beating, he had originally accepted his feelings as a sort of lost cause that his brother began to taunt him a cowardly idiot after he failed to keep an assertive attitude in the face of wooing a shrew - but being assertive had worked. And he found out that Lovino couldn't resist his begging face. Ludwig couldn't believe his luck.
Luck... more or less. It was luck, no matter how one thought about it. Lovino had always been a person of high maintenance and was hard to bear at times, but he made up for that in regards to how vulnerable he was - more vulnerable than Veneziano he could say, and how Ludwig was a sucker for such vulnerability.
He thought that vulnerability, especially Lovino's, was kind of cute.
Thus, Ludwig promised himself that he would do anything to shield him away from pain, suffering, and sadness. But as of this moment he had half a mind to inflict at least half of those to his partner who had a knee stuck against what felt like his kidneys for more than three hours.
Sprawled across their bed as if he alone owned it, Lovino gave only a couple of inches enough to accommodate a large man who was as tall as Denmark and as muscular as the Roman Empire - curled into a fetus position - as he.
His regions were being invaded.
Veneziano or Antonio had never mentioned this little detail to him, but perhaps him - the 'potato bastard' - being in the same bed as Lovino had something to do with this. Lovino did say that he liked pissing him off. He thought that perhaps Lovino's will went beyond his sleep.
Ludwig huffed when his partner started to thrash again, and he tried to push away what felt like feet digging on his spine. So far Lovino's efforts to piss him off were working.
“Nghr… Lovino?" he growled, "Lovino, wake up.” He turned around and slapped at Lovino's feet, eyes bleary, and unfocused. It was evident that he hadn't been sleeping well for the last couple of days. When Lovino had shown him excellent experience with orgasm control, a cock ring, and his tongue... not to mention a sadistic streak that could rival Belarus’, he had never expected that it would come along with a heavy price.
Ludwig looked at the ceiling, rolled his eyes, and rubbed his face to will away his exhaustion. He turned to look at Lovino who began to thrash around a large expanse of their bed again, only to end up at the foot of the bed, his head hanging off the mattress upside down.
Hesitant but cautious, like a frightened dog on all fours, Ludwig leaned near Lovino. His mouth brushed at his ear and he whispered: “S… sweet tomato?” He turned red at the familiar (and painful. Don’t forget painful) pet name.
A hand smacked his cheek while Lovino mumbled in anger. He rolled away from him, apparently still asleep, “Damn… macho… potato…” he sighed. A loud snore ended that would-be threat.
Ludwig dared to lean back in again after he rubbed his cheek from the stinging pain, “… Lovino?" he poked the smaller man's nose and said, louder this time: "H-honeydew? Cuppycake? Meine süße Tomate?”
Lovino gave off a very drowsy giggle and seemed to push himself nearer Ludwig’s warmth, only to give off an annoyed mph and go back to snoring loudly. Holy god. Even when he's asleep he was still...
"Ouff." The blond nation groaned in disappointment and let his forehead fall on Lovino’s neck, but Lovino still slept like death itself, much to his chagrin.
'Think, Ludwig, think. tactic tactic tactic....'
Ludwig sighed in forfeit after he made up his mind. He set his jaw firmly. Movement careful, he let a wandering hand creep down Lovino's chest and tease his nipples - a slight touch there, feather-soft teases around his bellybutton; down, slowly… callous hands, softer than velvet cloth. Ludwig exhaled hotly and steeled his self-control. Further... and lower, around Lovino's…
“AIEEE”
Next thing he knew he was being suffocated with a pillow by a flabbergasted, naked, and very angry Italian.
"WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING PERVERT.” Ludwig felt someone press their knee against his gut, but he didn’t mind the throbbing pain since he couldn’t breathe…
“Mmphmmm…” Ludwig flailed for a while before he rested his hands on Lovino's wrist, not actually trying to pry it off too much since he’d hate to leave bruise marks there. Lovino finally took the pillow off his face after he took the hint, and then Ludwig could see Lovino's livid expression through his disheveled fringe.
"What the fuck do you think you're DOING?"
“I-I’m sorry. You just looked so cute.”
Lovino's face burst in red, an embarrassed expression almost overcoming his angry face, “Fuck you.” … after which he punched Ludwig in the nose. Hard. That he fell off of what little space he had on their bed, and onto the floor with a dull thud.
“YOU." he said in a way that elongated the word into a practised growl, "Couch. NOW. AND KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS TO YOURSELF.”
He heard Lovino settle back in the blankets after spewing off irritated expletives of hate, and when everything had quieted down, Ludwig sighed on the floor, relieved.
Thank god that worked. He’d take the couch over another sleepless night any time.
Of course, Ludwig could have confronted him about his bed hogging habits than stoop to this obviously lower tactic, but in war… well, the two opposing nations weren’t supposed to be in love in the first place, and he was willing to cut both of his arms off with a rusty spoon just to please the other without a thought. He knew that asking Lovino if he could sleep anywhere else but their bed would be a bad mistake, worse than armeggadon, so he was willing to take this little sacrifice for his little tomato's pride.
Lovino's early morning punishment would assure him victorious in the end, anyway.
... who knew that ludwig was such a masochistic!top softie...
Edited! :D