[Fanfic] - "Apples to Apples" and "Oh Happy Apple, This is Thy Sheath"
Title: Apples to Apples
Fandom: Hetalia
Rating: Teen
Warnings: lusty thoughts about apples, non-existent plot
Characters: Prussia/Germany
Word count: 1,170
Summary: The day was going exactly according to schedule until Gilbert started eating that damn apple. Human names.
Originally written for the kink meme for the prompt ‘Nation A likes apples; Nation B is totally turned on by this.’
A calloused thumb traced gentle curves over taut pale skin, leaving invisible, intricate swirls over and over in the same tender spot.
On the other side of the room in his favorite armchair, Ludwig watched in breathless fascination from behind the screen of his laptop, fingers frozen over the keyboard. He barely dared to breathe, lest he disturb the picture playing out in front of him.
He’d originally come into the living room to get some work done in a less stuffy atmosphere than his study. He’d even managed to complete several reports in peace and comfort and knew he would be well prepared for Monday’s internal meeting. He felt relaxed and quite satisfied with the day. But then Gilbert emerged from the kitchen and plopped down, sprawling across the couch with his back propped up against the armrest without even a ‘good afternoon’. Ludwig had long ago grown used to this complete disregard for social niceties, and ignored him right back.
That is, until Gilbert stated acting obscene.
He started tracing those damn circles into that pretty flesh and Ludwig hadn’t gotten so much as a memo written since. Now Gilbert’s other hand reached out to join its counterpart, both thumbs mirroring each other while the rest of his fingers reached around in a cupping motion. He hefted the weight in his hands experimentally, as if it were the most important object in the room.
Ludwig felt a groan try to make its way past his throat and stomped it down with a savage bite to his lip. The slightest sound wormed its way through to escape but at the last minute he managed to turn it into a cough. Red hot heat suffused his face and he silently thanked whomever was listening that Gilbert hadn’t even glanced in his direction, too caught up his own ministrations to notice his little brother coming undone not half a room away.
Feliciano, as his first real friend, had always taken seriously his self-imposed duty to coach Ludwig in the finer points of non-awkward social interaction. (It was part of the pinky swear, apparently. To this day, the regulations and protocols governing such pacts in times of peace continued to elude him, so in this one area, he was content to place his trust in his friend.) Well, Ludwig surely didn’t need him here now to know that what he was doing, the unabashed staring, the indecent thoughts, the - he took one hand away from the keyboard to palm himself through his jeans - lust, was most certainly on the it-would-be-best-if-you-didn’t-do-that-because-it’s-scary list.
This was entirely inappropriate. No, it had passed inappropriate some time ago. He was teetering on the edge of summoning the requisite willpower to pick himself up off the chair and leave the room (laptop held securely over his crotch), when Gilbert did the unthinkable.
Slowly, achingly, he brought both hands to his mouth and sunk his teeth lovingly into that gorgeous flesh. The crunching and snapping noise as Gilbert bit firmly into the apple was audible from across the room and this time Ludwig couldn’t stop the moan that escaped him.
At that, Gilbert seemed to finally realize he had an audience. He finished taking the bite and swallowed. Without realizing, Ludwig swallowed too, mirroring his actions.
“Really, West?” Gilbert asked incredulously, turning his head at the sound. “Apples? That’s what gets you off.”
Ludwig said nothing, torn between embarrassment and all-consuming arousal. He ached to touch himself again, but couldn’t bring himself to go through with it while Gilbert’s eyes still bored into him.
“You’re so fucking strange,” said Gilbert, not waiting for a proper answer. But he was smiling as he raised the apple (oh, happy apple!) back to his mouth and took another bite, eyes locked on to Ludwig the entire time.
Ludwig licked his lips as his eyes traced the line where the apple met Gilbert’s mouth, the line of his jaw as he chewed, the undulation of his throat as he swallowed the whole delectable bite all in one obscene mouthful.
He surged into action before he even fully realized it, tossing the laptop, still open, on to the abandoned chair behind him. He reached the side of the couch just in time for the third bite.
Using the momentum he’d gathered on the approach, he leaned over the couch, grabbed Gilbert by both shoulders, and forcefully pinned him to the couch’s armrest. Not pausing to let him react, Ludwig smashed their lips together. Normally, his brother relished meeting violence with violence and despite the years without his own country, he was still scary good at physical combat. Ludwig braced for a retaliation that never came. Gilbert didn’t even try to fight back, and if the muffled laughter Ludwig felt against his mouth was any indication, he was clearly enjoying himself.
Taking that as encouragement, Ludwig forced his tongue inside. Not that Gilbert needed much coaxing to let it happen. With one swipe of his tongue, he captured the still-whole piece of apple and quickly withdrew, breaking the kiss and claiming his trophy. It was delicious.
With an accomplished nod of his head, he stood up and joined Gilbert on the couch, straddling his hips and grinding against him, relishing the wave of heat the contact provided. His hands found the hem of Gilbert’s t-shirt and burrowed beneath it, stroking intently up the hard planes of his stomach and then back down his sides.
“If this is the view I’m rewarded with, I should eat apples more often.” Gilbert was smirking up at him. What was left of the apple remained in his hand, lazily hanging off the side of the couch in the aftermath of Ludwig’s assault. He brought it back to his lips.
Ludwig made no move to intervene.
“I cannot allow it,” he replied. His legs clamped around Gilbert tighter in an effort to keep himself from moving. “I would never get any work done. It would imperil the entire European financial system.”
Gilbert ran the apple across his lips with the smooth, unbroken side. Pale yellow against pink. Back and forth, back and forth, and Ludwig realized just how uncomfortably tight his jeans had become. Before he could remedy the problem, there was the crunch of another bite and Ludwig released the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.
This time when Gilbert finished the bite and lowered the apple, there was a tiny drop of juice clinging to the corner of his mouth. Like a man starved, Ludwig ripped his hands out from under the t-shirt and lunged forward. He seized Gilbert by the sides of his head, thumbs caressing his jawline, and kissed the edge of his mouth directly over the offending droplet.
“Sounds perfect,” Gilbert murmured. Then he turned his head within the confines of Ludwig’s grip to kiss him full on the mouth and ground his hips upward to meet him and Ludwig decided that, just for today, the economy could take care of itself.
Sequel: Oh Happy Apple, This is Thy Sheath
Rating: Teen
Warnings: more apples, what plot?
Characters or Pairings: Prussia/Germany
Summay: Ludwig should have seen this coming when Gilbert offered to help with the shopping.
The first hint of what should have been a warning appeared in the form of an offer to help with the household errands. Had it manifested as a set of troop maneuvers or planned austerity measures it would have been immediately recognized and heeded. But that wasn’t the case.
He had just stepped out of the house that morning to pick up food for the week when Gilbert called him back and suggested they do the shopping together at one of the outdoor markets instead. Ludwig readily agreed. The warm atmosphere and fresh foods sparked fond memories of days gone by, not to mention he was secretly pleased at the opportunity to spend some leisure time with his brother; the recent influx of work was too much for one person and kept them both so busy that they had barely seen each other for the past several weeks.
Everything was going fine (bread, check; fish, check; chocolate pastries, check; potatoes, check) until they rounded the corner to the next row of stalls and Ludwig stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide in disbelief.
The entire line of stalls. On both sides, all the way down. Deep sensual reds, blindingly cheerful greens, yellows that could outshine a canary diamond. Apples as far as the eye could see.
They were all so lovely, lined up in rows and stacked atop each other. He particularly liked it when they were sorted by color. Some of them even still had the stems attached. He pictured wrapping his thumb and forefinger around one of those stems, feeling that hardness cradled between them, and exerting just enough pressure until it gave with a soft pop.
It was suddenly far too hot outside in a way that had nothing to do with the weather.
“You planned this,” he choked out weakly.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” was the glib response.
Before Ludwig could dignify that with an answer, a hand snaked around his waist and curled one of its fingers securely around his belt loop. He’d already tensed in preparation to push away when he became aware of a very pleasurable stroking sensation against his side and realized it was also Gilbert; the thumb of that same hand had slipped under his waistband and was making gentle circles over his hip through the thin material of his tucked in shirt. Without thinking, he found himself leaning closer into Gilbert instead.
“People are trying to get around us.” The whisper ghosted against the shell of his ear and sent a shiver down his neck and through one arm. Ludwig’s eyes fell closed for a brief instant. “Stop making a scene and walk.”
I’m not the one making a scene, he thought, unable to voice the objection. The combined forces of the thumb at his hip and the gleaming sea of flawlessly shaped perfection up ahead had driven him to distraction.
Reluctantly, Ludwig stepped forward and entered the fray.
The only way to get through this, he decided, was to find some sort of outlet. To divert himself long enough to escape the trap he’d been ensnared in while retaining some semblance of dignity.
He imagined disentangling himself so that he would be free to heave Gilbert over his shoulder and lay him out across the large table immediately to their right. Gilbert would be encircled by all those pristine apples, so many apples touching every part of him. The red ones in particular would contrast exquisitely against his unnaturally pale skin and hair, and even better, exactly match his unusual eyes.
“Hey, West! Earth to West calling!”
Ludwig jumped and snapped back, tearing his gaze and thoughts away from apples the exact shade of Gilbert’s stare. Voice tight from want, he was scarcely able to utter a quick, “What is it?”
They were still strolling along, passing by the vendor with the red apples and heading in deeper.
“I said, let’s go check out those over there. I want to bring some home.”
And Ludwig wanted to watch him pick them. Watch his hands roam over them one by one, fingers spread wide as he inspected each for quality, tracing every last centimeter all over, from the smoothness in the center to the crevices at top and bottom.
He adjusted his jeans with one hand, uncomfortably. It was a futile gesture, he realized, as the burst of relief it brought was quickly overwhelmed and swept away. “Okay,” was all he managed to breathe out in response.
They approached the vendor. This one also stocked that tantalizing red color. Ludwig couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts that raced through his mind.
He wanted to rip open Gilbert’s shirt as he lay there amidst the red apples, strip him bare to the waist, and rake his fingernails down the exposed muscles of his chest. He wondered if Gilbert would be as compliant as the last time or if he would fight, launching himself off the table and sending cartons of apples crashing to the ground. They would both be knocked down, rolling on top of each other across the hard floor until Gilbert had him pinned, while apples continued to spill forth from the table like a waterfall and scatter all around them.
“-look awesome!” The vision in his mind shattered like glass as the sound of Gilbert’s voice broke through. But this time, he wasn’t the one being addressed.
Gilbert was speaking to one of the vendors, a youngish looking woman in glasses. With his free hand, the tip of one finger toyed with a bright green apple resting on the table, skimming the edge of the indentation at the top, around and around, before plunging inside.
Ludwig’s breath hitched and for a moment he could do nothing but watch, captivated.
“We’ll take a kilo,” Gilbert continued his conversation with the woman. He threw an evil smirk in Ludwig’s direction that promptly morphed into a leer before turning away as if nothing happened.
“No.” It was time to put an end to this charade.
“Yeah, West, we will.”
“No, Gilbert. We won’t.” He turned from that angry red glare to the vendor, who now looked like she wanted to be anywhere that was far, far away from the two of them. “We’ll take them all.”
“Excuse me?” Behind those large black framed eyeglasses (was she cursed with exceedingly poor vision or making a fashion statement; he couldn’t tell), the young woman appeared incredibly confused.
“All of them. The red ones. I want all of the red ones.”
With a steadiness extracted from the last dregs of his dying self-control, he pulled six crisp €20 notes from his wallet (it would blow a large chunk of this month’s discretionary budget for the household but he didn’t care). There was a pen lying on the table. Emptying his pockets, he found a scrap of paper and meticulously printed his address, handing it and the money to the perplexed woman. “Deliver them to this address. Immediately.”
“Sir, are you sur-”
“Yes.” He was being rude but it couldn’t be helped. Gilbert’s hand on his waist was taking liberties: the pad of skin swapped out for the scraping of a nail as if he’d somehow read Ludwig’s earlier thoughts, the circles at his hip becoming greedier until his thumb was claiming territory as far under the waistband as it could reach.
They needed to leave, and fast.
“Okay then, can do!” The befuddled expression had already changed to elation and she hurriedly instructed her younger associate to start packing up the precious red gems.
Ludwig watched the proceedings with an eager twitch of his lips. Then he dragged a beaming Gilbert from the market. If he was lucky they would reach home just in time for the delivery.
Whoever said you couldn’t live your dreams was an idiot.