[fic] Steel: 1860
Yes, another repost. But I can only find this one in meinbruder so I guess I forgot to post it here... Or rather, planned to proof it and then never got around to it. For archival neatness, I thus present:
Title: Steel: 1860
Author: drcalvin
Note: Written for Jan in the meinbruder springkink challenge
Summary: Young Germany learns about the beauty of artillery guns. A PWP with ~thematic overtones~
Rating: R to NC-17-ish
Pairing: Prussia/Younger Germany (but he's in his late teens/early twenties, no shota)
Warning: Incest, sex, no beta, no planning. Probably weapons fetishism and history fail.
Steel: 1860
"Just look at this beauty, West! Awesome!"
His brother's eyes were glittering with possessive joy when he stroked the gleaming steel muzzles.
The German Confederation - commonly called West, since his was a mouthful of a name - nodded. He began inspecting the cannon, albeit with slightly more reserve.
"Yes, excellent quality," he agreed. "I have the specifics here, if you-"
"Oh come off it, West," Prussia muttered and practically nuzzled the metal. "Forget the numbers, feel them! Can't you see what these darlings are?"
"They are the most modern cannons in the world," the German Confederation answered. "Designed by our engineers and manufactured by the most skilled workers. It is loaded with a revolutionary horizontal sliding block method. Cast in the most flawless steel which can be produced in the world!"
"West, West, West..." Prussia shook his head and removed his cap, tapping it against his leg with a sad pout. "Look. You- No, hang on a moment. Stay, right there, you won't have to miss my awesomeness for long!" Then he hurried off, caught by some new fanciful idea.
With a sigh, the German Confederation sat down on a crate to wait for his brother. It wasn't as if he couldn't see how good these new cannons were, he told himself, and patted the big wheel next to him. He liked them, he liked them a lot. Efficient, modern, obviously well-made. The shining gleam of steel, the familiar scent of oil and metal that permeated the factory, it all made him feel safe and happy.
These cannons were made in their lands. Now they were going to his brother's aid, so that the kingdom of Prussia would grow in strength and might. What was there not to like?
He just didn't regard weapons quite as... passionately as his older brother. Though honestly, Prussia seemed unable to consider anything calmly.
Gnawing at his pen, the German Confederation considered whether that was an asset or liability in the character of a nation.
Why must it be so complicated, this, to enter the world stage as a nation in his own might? He'd always preferred to stay in the workshops and factories, to tinker and create. Let his older, stronger, siblings and cousins deal with the politics of the day.
But now he was growing up, with all the responsibilities that entailed. He was already taller than Austria. And just recently, he'd turned to say something inconsequential to his brother. He'd found himself looking straight into those crimson eyes. That felt as if someone had slapped him with a wet sock. His older brother. The fierce kingdom who'd always appeared too great for the world to hold him. How could they ever become equals? Would they even fit on the same map?
"Oi, West! Stop brooding!"
"Ah, pardon me, brother." He felt himself flush and quickly stood up, fussing with his papers. "I was merely, uhm, merely considering."
"Brooding," Prussia said with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "I know that look, West, and I'm getting very tired of it."
"Forgive me."
"Bah, never mind."
How could he just wave things off like that, he marveled. How did someone so old and powerful walk through life with steps unencumbered by any worries?
"Alright," Prussia said and rubbed his hands. The very picture of impish anticipation. "I've sent everyone away, big man Krupp and all his little Krupplets. Said we had important nationish things to do, so would they please run off and play with smaller guns for a while, kehehehe!"
The German Confederation knew that he must stop frowning so much before he got permanent worry-lines, but some times... Somewhat worrying, these times tended to coincidence with his brother's great ideas.
"I do hope this truly is important. Your king has ordered a great many cannons, you know. The factory needs to work at full efficiency if they are to be able to finish the order in time."
"Trust me, West, this is way important." Licking his lips slightly, Prussia began unbuttoning his jacket.
"Brother?"
"You'd better undress too," Prussia said, ignoring the puzzled look in his younger brother's face. "I mean, it's not strictly necessary but since you're always so, well, you."
He waved his hand in a vague gesture which the German Confederation didn't quite understand but suspected meant something along the lines of 'neat' and 'proper'. Or, since this was his brother, perhaps it better translated to 'stick in the mud'.
"Exactly what do you wish us to do properly?" There was some alarm in his voice. Prussia had finished with the jacket and was now unbuckling his belt.
"What? Fuck, of course!"
"Wha- Wha- BROTHER!"
"West?" Prussia quirked an eyebrow at him, before he leaned against the base of the cannon to untie his boots.
"What is the meaning of this!"
"Look. West. These," Prussia patted the gleaming steel behind him, "aren't just tools. Screwdrivers are tools. Mills are tools. Heck, even axes are mere tools these days, even if the Dane won't admit it. But weapons? Weapons are life to a nation. And you have to love life, if you're going to survive in this world."
"I still don't see what that has to do with us..." Now it was the German Confederation who found himself floundering and seeking refuge in vague gestures.
"No, it'll be a bit more like this," Prussia said and pumped his arm with a downright dirty grin. "Come on, West! I'll show you how to properly love your gun. Trust me; it'll be awesome"
He swallowed and wiped some cold sweat off his forehead. Prussia had finished with his boots by now and was making far too quick work of his trousers.
"I'm not, I mean, I appreciate the intent - I think - but I don't quite know if you, ah, uhm, fornicating with me next to a cannon is really appropriate in the circumstances."
"Kehehehe! No, that'd be pretty damn useless 'in these circumstances', as you put it."
"Oh?"
Perhaps, he thought with a vague hope, he'd misunderstood some quaint soldierly colloquialism of Prussia's? It had happened before. Although such slang usually sounded like something innocent, yet implied fu- fornicating, who was to say it never went the other way around?
No man nor nation ought to be able to look so threatening when stripped to his unmentionables. Yet, when Prussia practically stalked towards him with a hungry leer on his face, the German Confederation felt everything but an almost adult, vigorous nation. This, he imagined, must be how Prussia looked before he devoured a weaker neighbor, tearing out the soul of the land and taking everything into himself.
"Brother, stop! Please...."
He came to an abrupt stop as his back hit the cannon behind him, the steel a cool and solid presence against his back. Somehow, it grounded him and he manfully managed to choke back a yelp when Prussia put his gloved hand on his cheek.
"Little brother," Prussia murmured, so close that each word was a moist touch against his lips, "would you stop worrying for once?"
"I just don't understand," he said, fingers trying to dig grooves in the unyielding steel.
"Ah, no, but that's what we'll try to remedy here."
Prussia pressed closer to him, all hard muscle and lean lines. "Look," he murmured, "the first thing you ought to know is that you'll be the one to do the buggering today."
This time, there was no chance in hell that he'd be able to stop the squeak escaping him. He didn't even try.
"Oh, don't look so surprised." Prussia snorted with laughter when the German Confederation just continued to boggle at him. Finally, he stepped back, giving his poor confused brother a chance to breath again.
"Look, West, where are we?"
"Essen," he answered automatically.
"Mhm. And can you get much further west than that? And still be inside us, I mean."
The German Confederation frowned again, although this time it was more due to confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"It means that we're in what will, probably, become your heartlands one day! And this," Prussia made a wide sweeping gesture, taking in the great factory hall and the rows of cannons waiting to be shipped off, "this is your factory, little West!"
Prussia twirled around, all manic energy and great gestures. His very spirit seemed to be reflected and enhanced by the grand weapons surrounding them.
"Look at them! These cannons, this steel, this is what will make you awesome!" He reached out a hand, unerringly finding the spot of his brother's heart and pressed down hard, until the German Confederation's breath became labored.
"I said I'd make you great, West, didn't I?"
"Yes," he whispered, slowly placing his own hand above Prussia's. The pressure was steady and uncomfortable, but nothing he couldn't bear.
"And this is where it starts," Prussia said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Weapons, West. Cannons and artillery and a great, glorious industry of death. This, my dear West, is where I want you to take me."
If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought that the smell of gunpowder had gone to Prussia's head. Or his own. But for all the confusion, the German Confederation was certain that they were both stone cold sober.
"But- right now?"
"Yes." Prussia's tone broke no argument. "Right now, right here. Because if you don't love your weapons, if you don't let your army swallow you up until you can't remember where you begin and they end - then you'll have no chance. They'll rip you apart and take you down! If you lose that, you will forget who you are!"
"And for a nation, that is death," the German Confederation mumbled, knowing the old and oft repeated lesson by heart. "But Austria said..."
"Tch! Never mind specs!" Prussia waved away his feeble protest. "That one's a wuss and a weakling! Besides, he didn't start out one big messy patchwork, like you did."
That stung. Always did when Prussia reminded him what a jumble he'd been in the beginning, until his brother had begun pulling him together. But he was becoming more and more unified by the day. And Prussia was still helping him, even if the lessons weren't always comfortable.
"So what do I, uhm, do?"
"Whatever you like, West! That's kind of the point! Though loosing some clothes is a good start."
Maybe it was because Prussia told him to do it, that the German Confederation suddenly didn't feel like undressing. Or maybe it was because he knew that while Prussia could strut around naked as a babe and not feel particularly self-conscious about it, he would never manage. Whatever the reason, he shook his head. No.
Prussia stared at him for a moment, then he began to laugh. Too much, too intense, just as everything else with his crazy older brother. Despite the laughter, though, he spread his arms open in invitation. "As you want it, West!"
"I'll need some hints here," the German Confederation mumbled, when he turned them around, to push Prussia against the cannon.
"Just go with the flow," Prussia mumbled. "Is not an exact science, 'm afraid."
"That just means it hasn't been properly researched yet," he replied, letting his hands slide over Prussia's body. They'd been close before, fighting and training, but this was... different. More intense. So exhilarating that it almost felt unreal.
"You- Ahahehe, no tickling my awesomeness! You offering to try make it one, then?"
"Perhaps I will," he said, fascinated by the way Prussia's stomach muscles twitched when he laughed. "Sexual congress seems to be a great motivating factor in many human endeavors and," he paused to press a careful kiss to Prussia's temple, "it might be, ah, beneficial to understand the, uhm, where was I?"
"Bout to kiss me properly, you over-analytical bookworm," Prussia said, his hands clawing insistently at the German Confederation's back.
"Oh. Right." Once again, he went for a gentle, almost chaste kiss, but Prussia had wildly different ideas. As soon as their lips met, his brother snarled and practically attacked him with teeth and tongue.
It was much hotter than he had ever imagined this kissing business to be. When Prussia opened his mouth, it was so easy to slip his own tongue inside, and that- God above, but that was good. The way it made Prussia squirm in his arms and whimper as if he couldn't get enough of him, that was bloody magnificent!
"I want you," the German Confederation said when the broke the kiss. Prussia's hair was wildly askew, his lips were bruised and he was grinning like an absolute madman. Magnificent indeed.
"Right here for the taking, brother dearest."
"Then take you I will," he said, and this time, there was more than laughter in Prussia's face. Not fear, no, but a wary tension. A hint of challenge, something in him coiled and prepared for danger.
This must be how he looked at other nations. How grown nations felt towards each other, always on guard, yet subtly drawn together. Because they could hurt each other, if they chose, and they could help each other when they wanted. Finally, after all this years, his brother would have to see him as a grown nation. He wondered if independence tasted like steel to all nations. Or if it was just them.
They inspired him, these thoughts. He dared to explore previously forbidden territories of Prussia. It made him shudder, to touch that still covered sex. Not with fear, though, only with the sheer overwhelming amount of emotions rushing through him.
"Want you, want you now," he murmured, tasting and touching Prussia everywhere, growing bolder with every caress. The smell of steel and gunpowder lay heavy in the air around them, bringing to mind all the battlefields he'd witnessed. So many conflicts that had shaped and birthed them both.
"Yesss," Prussia hissed in his ear, lifting his legs around Germany's waist, "like that! More!"
He fumbled with his own clothes, until Prussia batted his hands away in annoyance and began tearing at the buttons.
"Bloody buttons and laces and bloody tailors who can't invent something practical for once! Don't they know we're in an industrial revolution?"
"I can take it from here, brother," he finally said, silencing Prussia's tirade with another searing kiss. "Now let me see..."
The underwear tore easily in his hands. Although Prussia squirmed and complained that the cannon was cold and he'd soon have frostbite on his ass, he lifted his legs happily enough. Within moments the German Confederation had him pressed against the base of the artillery piece. Soon Prussia was arching against him, growling and cursing enough to drive him completely wild. It didn't help at all that they'd finally managed to free his own cock and that they were now rubbing against each other. This friction was incredibly exciting, but still not intense enough.
"Do I just," he swallowed, trying to find his scattered thoughts, "stick it in?"
"What? Shit, no!" For a moment, Prussia stopped trying to simultaneously lick, suck and grope the German Confederation into insanity. "I've got, right here- The fuck is my cap!"
"You put it," he managed to with some difficulty, "up there. On the cannon."
"Well, hand it over, West!"
Somehow or other, he managed to grab the cap without dropping Prussia or falling over. Although when he dragged the garment which was for some as-of-yet unclear reason necessary for intercourse, a small bottle that lay inside fell out.
"There we go!" Prussia grinned, grabbing the little bottle with far better coordination that the German Confederation felt he ought to possess considering his position and the tone of his previous moans.
"What is it?"
"Rock oil!"
"And...?"
"They use it to, uhn, do that again would'ya? No, like- Oh yeah... Anyway, they smear it on stuff so that it'll be more, uh, nonstuffy!"
"What?"
"Sticky! Non-sticky! Oh, dammit West, just put some on your dick and fuck me already."
Slowly, waveringly, a light turned on in the German Confederation's mind. "You mean to use it as a lubricant?"
Prussia nodded. "That's the apple, West, always knew you were smart. Heh, must come from my side of the familoohhh fuck!"
You couldn't grow up surrounded by soldiers and not learn a few things about human anatomy. And from what the German Confederation had heard, wherever genitals were about to go, it didn't hurt if a few fingers did some scouting ahead.
He'd managed to spill mineral oil all over his hand when trying to open the bottle one-handed. Still, considering the way Prussia's eyes rolled back in his head when slick fingers fumbled their ways down his cock and began carefully touched his opening, this didn't really hinder things.
"You still wearing your gloves, West?" his brother asked. "Mm, kinky!"
"So are you," he managed to reply. Words were difficult to find, never mind pronounce, with two of his fingers buried deep inside his brother. The smell of Prussia's sweat mixing with the blood-like tang of metal all around them, the almost foreign feel of his own hand coated in leather and lubricant around his cock...
Beyond that, there was the red and white of his brother; the colors that would always seem Prussia's more than any other nations; hues borrowed from pallid corpses and rushing blood. He saw them in those wide-open eyes, on the thin lips pulled back to reveal a perfect row of teeth, in dirty white hair streaked with sweat and in the two bright spots of excitement glowing on Prussia's cheeks.
"West," Prussia growled, "stop bloody thinking."
"Yes, brother," he said. Then, so easily, as if they'd waited their whole lives for this, he slipped inside him and everything even remotely like sanity flew away.
The German Confederation was young, but already a strong and imposing nation. He pushed hard into the other nation, spreading his legs wide and forcing mindless cries from his throat.
He wanted him, he needed him as he'd never needed anything before. With every thrust, he pushed deeper inside Prussia, knowing he must be gripping him hard enough to bruise and not caring a whit. Only more, closer, until they were almost, almost there!
In return, Prussia gave almost as good as he got, biting and clawing even when he was spread open and fucked as if they were two steps from death. With his cock snug between them and unyielding steel behind him, he was trapped in his brother's tight embrace. From all appearances, he loved every second of it.
Prussia was screaming obscenities in his ear, their movements making the cannon clank and rattle, and his heartbeat was beating a frenetic rhythm to this opera of vulgar lust. No wonder then, that the German Confederation felt the crescendo catch up with him far too quickly. A few gasped words of warning, then Prussia squeezing even tighter around him, trying to hold him, to kill him with sensation until he was drowning in pleasure.
A yell, a few final convulsive motions and he was finished. The German Confederation sagged against the cannon, fighting to keep upright at least until his brother had finished writhing with his own pleasure.
When they sank down to the floor, he realized that he could still hear a low drumbeat around him. It was not as frantic as the passion that had gripped him earlier, but he suspected it could easily swell and grow to drown all other sounds in the world.
"What is...?" he finally managed, lifting his head slightly.
"You can feel it now, can't you?" Prussia asked. He looked tired, but also deeply satisfied. "Like a pulse in your soul? It's, ah, what did grandpa call it - a song in our hearts, the echo of destiny itself?"
"Yes," the German Confederation said, nodding slowly. "Yes, exactly. It is. Me. Beyond me, beneath me. And," he put out a trembling hand, touching the great weapon against which they were resting, "it's here. It comes from this."
"Not just here," Prussia said, squirming a little until he found a more comfortable angle. "In people too, especially the important ones. You ever stand next to Bismarck, you'll barely be able to hear other people talk above the din."
"But... What is it?"
"Kehehehehe! It's us, you fool! Our souls, our selves!"
Hunger in those red eyes, all-devouring hunger; and willingness to share the glory. He finally saw it clearly, his brother's intense desire for them take on the world together.
"This song is our endless call to war," Prussia told him, fondly stroking the cannon. "And since I laid my eyes on these babies, I knew they'd become our finest instruments."
"Yes," he replied, also reaching out to feel the cool metal. It tingled beneath his fingers and he could see a thousand futures open from the muzzle of each cannon.
"Oh, yes, now I see... Beautiful, aren't they? Weapons of a new age."
"Our age, West. Our age of glory."
Bunch 'o inspiring links:
The Krupp family and factories
Artillery during WWI
The German Confederation
Title: Steel: 1860
Author: drcalvin
Note: Written for Jan in the meinbruder springkink challenge
Summary: Young Germany learns about the beauty of artillery guns. A PWP with ~thematic overtones~
Rating: R to NC-17-ish
Pairing: Prussia/Younger Germany (but he's in his late teens/early twenties, no shota)
Warning: Incest, sex, no beta, no planning. Probably weapons fetishism and history fail.
Steel: 1860
"Just look at this beauty, West! Awesome!"
His brother's eyes were glittering with possessive joy when he stroked the gleaming steel muzzles.
The German Confederation - commonly called West, since his was a mouthful of a name - nodded. He began inspecting the cannon, albeit with slightly more reserve.
"Yes, excellent quality," he agreed. "I have the specifics here, if you-"
"Oh come off it, West," Prussia muttered and practically nuzzled the metal. "Forget the numbers, feel them! Can't you see what these darlings are?"
"They are the most modern cannons in the world," the German Confederation answered. "Designed by our engineers and manufactured by the most skilled workers. It is loaded with a revolutionary horizontal sliding block method. Cast in the most flawless steel which can be produced in the world!"
"West, West, West..." Prussia shook his head and removed his cap, tapping it against his leg with a sad pout. "Look. You- No, hang on a moment. Stay, right there, you won't have to miss my awesomeness for long!" Then he hurried off, caught by some new fanciful idea.
With a sigh, the German Confederation sat down on a crate to wait for his brother. It wasn't as if he couldn't see how good these new cannons were, he told himself, and patted the big wheel next to him. He liked them, he liked them a lot. Efficient, modern, obviously well-made. The shining gleam of steel, the familiar scent of oil and metal that permeated the factory, it all made him feel safe and happy.
These cannons were made in their lands. Now they were going to his brother's aid, so that the kingdom of Prussia would grow in strength and might. What was there not to like?
He just didn't regard weapons quite as... passionately as his older brother. Though honestly, Prussia seemed unable to consider anything calmly.
Gnawing at his pen, the German Confederation considered whether that was an asset or liability in the character of a nation.
Why must it be so complicated, this, to enter the world stage as a nation in his own might? He'd always preferred to stay in the workshops and factories, to tinker and create. Let his older, stronger, siblings and cousins deal with the politics of the day.
But now he was growing up, with all the responsibilities that entailed. He was already taller than Austria. And just recently, he'd turned to say something inconsequential to his brother. He'd found himself looking straight into those crimson eyes. That felt as if someone had slapped him with a wet sock. His older brother. The fierce kingdom who'd always appeared too great for the world to hold him. How could they ever become equals? Would they even fit on the same map?
"Oi, West! Stop brooding!"
"Ah, pardon me, brother." He felt himself flush and quickly stood up, fussing with his papers. "I was merely, uhm, merely considering."
"Brooding," Prussia said with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "I know that look, West, and I'm getting very tired of it."
"Forgive me."
"Bah, never mind."
How could he just wave things off like that, he marveled. How did someone so old and powerful walk through life with steps unencumbered by any worries?
"Alright," Prussia said and rubbed his hands. The very picture of impish anticipation. "I've sent everyone away, big man Krupp and all his little Krupplets. Said we had important nationish things to do, so would they please run off and play with smaller guns for a while, kehehehe!"
The German Confederation knew that he must stop frowning so much before he got permanent worry-lines, but some times... Somewhat worrying, these times tended to coincidence with his brother's great ideas.
"I do hope this truly is important. Your king has ordered a great many cannons, you know. The factory needs to work at full efficiency if they are to be able to finish the order in time."
"Trust me, West, this is way important." Licking his lips slightly, Prussia began unbuttoning his jacket.
"Brother?"
"You'd better undress too," Prussia said, ignoring the puzzled look in his younger brother's face. "I mean, it's not strictly necessary but since you're always so, well, you."
He waved his hand in a vague gesture which the German Confederation didn't quite understand but suspected meant something along the lines of 'neat' and 'proper'. Or, since this was his brother, perhaps it better translated to 'stick in the mud'.
"Exactly what do you wish us to do properly?" There was some alarm in his voice. Prussia had finished with the jacket and was now unbuckling his belt.
"What? Fuck, of course!"
"Wha- Wha- BROTHER!"
"West?" Prussia quirked an eyebrow at him, before he leaned against the base of the cannon to untie his boots.
"What is the meaning of this!"
"Look. West. These," Prussia patted the gleaming steel behind him, "aren't just tools. Screwdrivers are tools. Mills are tools. Heck, even axes are mere tools these days, even if the Dane won't admit it. But weapons? Weapons are life to a nation. And you have to love life, if you're going to survive in this world."
"I still don't see what that has to do with us..." Now it was the German Confederation who found himself floundering and seeking refuge in vague gestures.
"No, it'll be a bit more like this," Prussia said and pumped his arm with a downright dirty grin. "Come on, West! I'll show you how to properly love your gun. Trust me; it'll be awesome"
He swallowed and wiped some cold sweat off his forehead. Prussia had finished with his boots by now and was making far too quick work of his trousers.
"I'm not, I mean, I appreciate the intent - I think - but I don't quite know if you, ah, uhm, fornicating with me next to a cannon is really appropriate in the circumstances."
"Kehehehe! No, that'd be pretty damn useless 'in these circumstances', as you put it."
"Oh?"
Perhaps, he thought with a vague hope, he'd misunderstood some quaint soldierly colloquialism of Prussia's? It had happened before. Although such slang usually sounded like something innocent, yet implied fu- fornicating, who was to say it never went the other way around?
No man nor nation ought to be able to look so threatening when stripped to his unmentionables. Yet, when Prussia practically stalked towards him with a hungry leer on his face, the German Confederation felt everything but an almost adult, vigorous nation. This, he imagined, must be how Prussia looked before he devoured a weaker neighbor, tearing out the soul of the land and taking everything into himself.
"Brother, stop! Please...."
He came to an abrupt stop as his back hit the cannon behind him, the steel a cool and solid presence against his back. Somehow, it grounded him and he manfully managed to choke back a yelp when Prussia put his gloved hand on his cheek.
"Little brother," Prussia murmured, so close that each word was a moist touch against his lips, "would you stop worrying for once?"
"I just don't understand," he said, fingers trying to dig grooves in the unyielding steel.
"Ah, no, but that's what we'll try to remedy here."
Prussia pressed closer to him, all hard muscle and lean lines. "Look," he murmured, "the first thing you ought to know is that you'll be the one to do the buggering today."
This time, there was no chance in hell that he'd be able to stop the squeak escaping him. He didn't even try.
"Oh, don't look so surprised." Prussia snorted with laughter when the German Confederation just continued to boggle at him. Finally, he stepped back, giving his poor confused brother a chance to breath again.
"Look, West, where are we?"
"Essen," he answered automatically.
"Mhm. And can you get much further west than that? And still be inside us, I mean."
The German Confederation frowned again, although this time it was more due to confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"It means that we're in what will, probably, become your heartlands one day! And this," Prussia made a wide sweeping gesture, taking in the great factory hall and the rows of cannons waiting to be shipped off, "this is your factory, little West!"
Prussia twirled around, all manic energy and great gestures. His very spirit seemed to be reflected and enhanced by the grand weapons surrounding them.
"Look at them! These cannons, this steel, this is what will make you awesome!" He reached out a hand, unerringly finding the spot of his brother's heart and pressed down hard, until the German Confederation's breath became labored.
"I said I'd make you great, West, didn't I?"
"Yes," he whispered, slowly placing his own hand above Prussia's. The pressure was steady and uncomfortable, but nothing he couldn't bear.
"And this is where it starts," Prussia said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Weapons, West. Cannons and artillery and a great, glorious industry of death. This, my dear West, is where I want you to take me."
If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought that the smell of gunpowder had gone to Prussia's head. Or his own. But for all the confusion, the German Confederation was certain that they were both stone cold sober.
"But- right now?"
"Yes." Prussia's tone broke no argument. "Right now, right here. Because if you don't love your weapons, if you don't let your army swallow you up until you can't remember where you begin and they end - then you'll have no chance. They'll rip you apart and take you down! If you lose that, you will forget who you are!"
"And for a nation, that is death," the German Confederation mumbled, knowing the old and oft repeated lesson by heart. "But Austria said..."
"Tch! Never mind specs!" Prussia waved away his feeble protest. "That one's a wuss and a weakling! Besides, he didn't start out one big messy patchwork, like you did."
That stung. Always did when Prussia reminded him what a jumble he'd been in the beginning, until his brother had begun pulling him together. But he was becoming more and more unified by the day. And Prussia was still helping him, even if the lessons weren't always comfortable.
"So what do I, uhm, do?"
"Whatever you like, West! That's kind of the point! Though loosing some clothes is a good start."
Maybe it was because Prussia told him to do it, that the German Confederation suddenly didn't feel like undressing. Or maybe it was because he knew that while Prussia could strut around naked as a babe and not feel particularly self-conscious about it, he would never manage. Whatever the reason, he shook his head. No.
Prussia stared at him for a moment, then he began to laugh. Too much, too intense, just as everything else with his crazy older brother. Despite the laughter, though, he spread his arms open in invitation. "As you want it, West!"
"I'll need some hints here," the German Confederation mumbled, when he turned them around, to push Prussia against the cannon.
"Just go with the flow," Prussia mumbled. "Is not an exact science, 'm afraid."
"That just means it hasn't been properly researched yet," he replied, letting his hands slide over Prussia's body. They'd been close before, fighting and training, but this was... different. More intense. So exhilarating that it almost felt unreal.
"You- Ahahehe, no tickling my awesomeness! You offering to try make it one, then?"
"Perhaps I will," he said, fascinated by the way Prussia's stomach muscles twitched when he laughed. "Sexual congress seems to be a great motivating factor in many human endeavors and," he paused to press a careful kiss to Prussia's temple, "it might be, ah, beneficial to understand the, uhm, where was I?"
"Bout to kiss me properly, you over-analytical bookworm," Prussia said, his hands clawing insistently at the German Confederation's back.
"Oh. Right." Once again, he went for a gentle, almost chaste kiss, but Prussia had wildly different ideas. As soon as their lips met, his brother snarled and practically attacked him with teeth and tongue.
It was much hotter than he had ever imagined this kissing business to be. When Prussia opened his mouth, it was so easy to slip his own tongue inside, and that- God above, but that was good. The way it made Prussia squirm in his arms and whimper as if he couldn't get enough of him, that was bloody magnificent!
"I want you," the German Confederation said when the broke the kiss. Prussia's hair was wildly askew, his lips were bruised and he was grinning like an absolute madman. Magnificent indeed.
"Right here for the taking, brother dearest."
"Then take you I will," he said, and this time, there was more than laughter in Prussia's face. Not fear, no, but a wary tension. A hint of challenge, something in him coiled and prepared for danger.
This must be how he looked at other nations. How grown nations felt towards each other, always on guard, yet subtly drawn together. Because they could hurt each other, if they chose, and they could help each other when they wanted. Finally, after all this years, his brother would have to see him as a grown nation. He wondered if independence tasted like steel to all nations. Or if it was just them.
They inspired him, these thoughts. He dared to explore previously forbidden territories of Prussia. It made him shudder, to touch that still covered sex. Not with fear, though, only with the sheer overwhelming amount of emotions rushing through him.
"Want you, want you now," he murmured, tasting and touching Prussia everywhere, growing bolder with every caress. The smell of steel and gunpowder lay heavy in the air around them, bringing to mind all the battlefields he'd witnessed. So many conflicts that had shaped and birthed them both.
"Yesss," Prussia hissed in his ear, lifting his legs around Germany's waist, "like that! More!"
He fumbled with his own clothes, until Prussia batted his hands away in annoyance and began tearing at the buttons.
"Bloody buttons and laces and bloody tailors who can't invent something practical for once! Don't they know we're in an industrial revolution?"
"I can take it from here, brother," he finally said, silencing Prussia's tirade with another searing kiss. "Now let me see..."
The underwear tore easily in his hands. Although Prussia squirmed and complained that the cannon was cold and he'd soon have frostbite on his ass, he lifted his legs happily enough. Within moments the German Confederation had him pressed against the base of the artillery piece. Soon Prussia was arching against him, growling and cursing enough to drive him completely wild. It didn't help at all that they'd finally managed to free his own cock and that they were now rubbing against each other. This friction was incredibly exciting, but still not intense enough.
"Do I just," he swallowed, trying to find his scattered thoughts, "stick it in?"
"What? Shit, no!" For a moment, Prussia stopped trying to simultaneously lick, suck and grope the German Confederation into insanity. "I've got, right here- The fuck is my cap!"
"You put it," he managed to with some difficulty, "up there. On the cannon."
"Well, hand it over, West!"
Somehow or other, he managed to grab the cap without dropping Prussia or falling over. Although when he dragged the garment which was for some as-of-yet unclear reason necessary for intercourse, a small bottle that lay inside fell out.
"There we go!" Prussia grinned, grabbing the little bottle with far better coordination that the German Confederation felt he ought to possess considering his position and the tone of his previous moans.
"What is it?"
"Rock oil!"
"And...?"
"They use it to, uhn, do that again would'ya? No, like- Oh yeah... Anyway, they smear it on stuff so that it'll be more, uh, nonstuffy!"
"What?"
"Sticky! Non-sticky! Oh, dammit West, just put some on your dick and fuck me already."
Slowly, waveringly, a light turned on in the German Confederation's mind. "You mean to use it as a lubricant?"
Prussia nodded. "That's the apple, West, always knew you were smart. Heh, must come from my side of the familoohhh fuck!"
You couldn't grow up surrounded by soldiers and not learn a few things about human anatomy. And from what the German Confederation had heard, wherever genitals were about to go, it didn't hurt if a few fingers did some scouting ahead.
He'd managed to spill mineral oil all over his hand when trying to open the bottle one-handed. Still, considering the way Prussia's eyes rolled back in his head when slick fingers fumbled their ways down his cock and began carefully touched his opening, this didn't really hinder things.
"You still wearing your gloves, West?" his brother asked. "Mm, kinky!"
"So are you," he managed to reply. Words were difficult to find, never mind pronounce, with two of his fingers buried deep inside his brother. The smell of Prussia's sweat mixing with the blood-like tang of metal all around them, the almost foreign feel of his own hand coated in leather and lubricant around his cock...
Beyond that, there was the red and white of his brother; the colors that would always seem Prussia's more than any other nations; hues borrowed from pallid corpses and rushing blood. He saw them in those wide-open eyes, on the thin lips pulled back to reveal a perfect row of teeth, in dirty white hair streaked with sweat and in the two bright spots of excitement glowing on Prussia's cheeks.
"West," Prussia growled, "stop bloody thinking."
"Yes, brother," he said. Then, so easily, as if they'd waited their whole lives for this, he slipped inside him and everything even remotely like sanity flew away.
The German Confederation was young, but already a strong and imposing nation. He pushed hard into the other nation, spreading his legs wide and forcing mindless cries from his throat.
He wanted him, he needed him as he'd never needed anything before. With every thrust, he pushed deeper inside Prussia, knowing he must be gripping him hard enough to bruise and not caring a whit. Only more, closer, until they were almost, almost there!
In return, Prussia gave almost as good as he got, biting and clawing even when he was spread open and fucked as if they were two steps from death. With his cock snug between them and unyielding steel behind him, he was trapped in his brother's tight embrace. From all appearances, he loved every second of it.
Prussia was screaming obscenities in his ear, their movements making the cannon clank and rattle, and his heartbeat was beating a frenetic rhythm to this opera of vulgar lust. No wonder then, that the German Confederation felt the crescendo catch up with him far too quickly. A few gasped words of warning, then Prussia squeezing even tighter around him, trying to hold him, to kill him with sensation until he was drowning in pleasure.
A yell, a few final convulsive motions and he was finished. The German Confederation sagged against the cannon, fighting to keep upright at least until his brother had finished writhing with his own pleasure.
When they sank down to the floor, he realized that he could still hear a low drumbeat around him. It was not as frantic as the passion that had gripped him earlier, but he suspected it could easily swell and grow to drown all other sounds in the world.
"What is...?" he finally managed, lifting his head slightly.
"You can feel it now, can't you?" Prussia asked. He looked tired, but also deeply satisfied. "Like a pulse in your soul? It's, ah, what did grandpa call it - a song in our hearts, the echo of destiny itself?"
"Yes," the German Confederation said, nodding slowly. "Yes, exactly. It is. Me. Beyond me, beneath me. And," he put out a trembling hand, touching the great weapon against which they were resting, "it's here. It comes from this."
"Not just here," Prussia said, squirming a little until he found a more comfortable angle. "In people too, especially the important ones. You ever stand next to Bismarck, you'll barely be able to hear other people talk above the din."
"But... What is it?"
"Kehehehehe! It's us, you fool! Our souls, our selves!"
Hunger in those red eyes, all-devouring hunger; and willingness to share the glory. He finally saw it clearly, his brother's intense desire for them take on the world together.
"This song is our endless call to war," Prussia told him, fondly stroking the cannon. "And since I laid my eyes on these babies, I knew they'd become our finest instruments."
"Yes," he replied, also reaching out to feel the cool metal. It tingled beneath his fingers and he could see a thousand futures open from the muzzle of each cannon.
"Oh, yes, now I see... Beautiful, aren't they? Weapons of a new age."
"Our age, West. Our age of glory."
Bunch 'o inspiring links:
The Krupp family and factories
Artillery during WWI
The German Confederation