#hwdwriters

--

Prussia was watching Austria over the rim of his newspaper. From his position on the couch, he could see him at the kitchen counter, pouring tea from Germany’s brass kettle into a mug. Austria was wearing a white shirt—no jabot—and grey, pin-striped trousers that showed the shape of his butt so very nicely.

Prussia could have written a hymn of praise to these trousers. They were elegant and conservative enough for Austria to wear them at least once a week, and whenever he did, Prussia couldn’t keep himself from staring.

Sometimes, he fantasised about stepping behind Austria while he made tea, rubbing his crotch against…

No.

He could feel his face flush and hid behind the newspaper.

No, he couldn’t allow himself to do something so crude. Not with Austria.

Prussia had been feeling confused ever since Austria had come to live with them. At first, he had thought: What a wimp, why does he give in just like that? Why doesn’t he fight, go underground—anything? Anything that would have shown Prussia that Austria hadn’t just given up or, worse, actually believed in the shit one of his own children was pulling.

Then he had started to notice how Austria acted around Germany—or, rather, how he didn’t react to some things Germany said. How he excused himself with being tired or unwell every single time he learned of some bigwig’s visit.

One day, he had followed Austria up to his room and had seen him with his ear at the flue. He hadn’t known what to do then—whether to walk away quietly or to announce his presence and risk scaring Austria. But then, Austria had straightened up, had locked eyes with him—and had leaned down in order to press his ear against the flue again.

That incident had shaken Prussia more than he had let on.

He trusts me. He trusts me not to betray him.

Not so wimpish then, eh? Or maybe just a good judge of character, because Prussia had indeed had no intention to betray Austria.

And then there had been the flute incident—the moment when Austria had caught him playing the flute and had said something about feelings.

He was glad he had hidden behind the newspaper. Talk—even thought—about feelings was something he couldn’t handle well, not in relation to Austria.

They had even made out after that—kissed and fumbled … until Prussia had ruined it.

He had seen Austria’s hand wrapped around his cock—Austria’s perfectly manicured hand, softened from regular use of hand lotion, around his crude, red thing—and suddenly, he had remembered how he had jerked off to the thought of subduing Austria for two centuries; to the thought of taking him down until he begged—as if Austria would ever beg for mercy; he knew that now.

And he had gone soft.

And Austria had blinked in surprise.

And he had been mortified.

He had fled after that, too embarrassed to stay in the room with Austria. To his surprise, Austria hadn’t come after him; hadn’t even raised the topic since then.

And now here he was, watching Austria out of the corner of his eye—and what a fine figure of a man he was!—but not daring to make another move. He didn’t even want to think what Austria might think of him now … and even if they tried again, what if he couldn’t stay hard for another time?

Austria sat down on an armchair opposite of him, cradling the mug in his arms and watching him over the rim of his glasses. Prussia raised the newspaper higher.

“I’m not stupid, Prussia. I see how you look at me.”

Yes, that’s what I feared.

Prussia said nothing.

He could hear Austria place the mug on the table and get up. He didn’t think he had ever been so nervous.

Austria sat down on the rim of the couch and pushed Prussia’s newspaper aside.

“I think it’s about time we talk about…”

“No!” Prussia yelped. He rumpled the paper in an attempt to build a defence with it again, but Austria could be surprisingly strong when he wanted to. Holding Prussia by the wrist, he pushed the newspaper out of the way.

Prussia looked down. He knew his face was flushed and he also knew what an ugly contrast it made with his pale skin.

“Prussia…” Austria eased his grip. “I’m confused. The way you look at me tells me you still want to sleep with me, but…”

“Look,” Prussia interrupted him hastily. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how that happened.”

“Really?” He didn’t even have to see Austria’s face to know he had raised an eyebrow. “Then why can’t you look into my eyes?”

Prussia said nothing.

Austria lifted his chin, giving him a piercing stare.

Prussia’s eyes flitted to the side.

“If this has anything to do with pushing me against a wall about a century ago…”

Prussia froze.

“I thought as much.” Austria sighed. “You see … did you really think I couldn’t have pushed you away if I hadn’t wanted to kiss you, too?”

“Well, maybe, but…” Prussia took a deep breath. “That’s not all there was. I had—”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Austria interrupted him. “That was then, and now is different. I just don’t want our past to get in the way of what we might have now.”

“But I even—” Prussia didn’t know how to continue.

“Let me get this straight,” Austria said, taking his hand. “You remembered that you had fantasised about forcing yourself upon me—and suddenly, you weren’t in the mood for sex anymore?”

Prussia sat stiff and mute as a brick.

“So that means you were ashamed of yourself?”

More silence.

“You were horrified that you had ever thought that way?”

Unable to look anywhere that wasn’t Austria, Prussia closed his eyes.

The hand that had been under his chin moved to his cheek, and Austria gave him a quick kiss.

“Stop beating yourself up about this. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is how you think now.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Prussia whispered.

“And what about me?” Austria snorted. “Do I deserve not to be with you?” He gave a bitter laugh. “You know, I probably do. But I want to be with you, and if you do that, too…”

Prussia wrapped his arms around him, pulling Austria on top of him for a desperate hug.

“I do,” he choked out.

Austria hugged him back, letting his knees slip to either side of Prussia’s legs as he drew him in for a deeper kiss.

Prussia raked his hands over Austria’s shoulders and back—man, that shirt even felt nice, like silk or very soft cotton…

Austria locked his hands behind Prussia’s neck, stroking up to the soft hair at its nape with one hand before the other moved to Prussia’s collar, opening it with experienced fingers.

Prussia gasped. His whole body thrummed and he felt the heat pool in its middle. His hands found their way to Austria’s lower back almost on their own, holding Austria on top of him.

Austria kissed the corner of his mouth, peppered kisses from his chin to the dip beneath his Adam’s apple and further down to where he had opened Prussia’s collar. He rolled his hips against Prussia’s, making him realise that they were both achingly hard.

Prussia wanted to grab Austria’s perfect butt and thrust up; wanted to press a finger between those two perfect orbs of flesh … but that would be too much to ask, wouldn’t it? He didn’t dare to do more than arch into Austria’s movements, and he didn’t even know how much of that was a conscious action and how much of it was the doing of his body seeking pleasure.

Again, it was Austria who made the next step, kneeling on top of him as he unbuttoned Prussia’s trousers. When he wrapped his hand around Prussia’s cock this time, it remained hard.

Prussia thrust up into Austria’s hand, arching his back in a way he would probably regret later. He was suffering from occasional bouts of lower back pain ever since the Great War.

As soon as it had occurred to Prussia that he might as well come like this, Austria took his hand away and got up, stepping out of his boots and trousers. Prussia was staring at every inch of skin that was revealed, especially at the skin between Austria’s legs.

Austria watched him and raised an eyebrow.

Spell broken, Prussia stood as well, getting rid of his clothes as swiftly as he could. Then he stepped towards Austria, opening the buttons of his shirt until he could brush it off his shoulders. Austria helped him take off his undershirt as well, and Prussia gently placed his hands on Austria’s almost hairless chest, brushed down to where he was sure he would have found a pouch some thirty years ago. Now Austria’s frame was almost skinny, with jutting hip bones.

Prussia went to his knees, massaging the soft flesh to the sides of Austria’s legs before he leaned forward to take the tip of Austria’s cock in his mouth.

“Let me sit down,” Austria said in a surprisingly gentle tone, brushing strands of hair out of Prussia’s face. “I feel too old to do this standing.”

Then he leaned back on the couch, opening his legs so Prussia could sit between them.

Prussia licked from the underside of Austria’s cock to its base, brushing gently over Austria’s balls. They were shaved—who even did that?—but he had to admit that it felt nice.

Then he leaned forward, taking as much of Austria’s cock in his mouth as he could.

Austria gasped, tangling a hand in Prussia’s hair as he shuddered in the attempt not to thrust his hips.

Prussia held them down, bobbing his head as he continued to stroke between Austria’s legs with his fingers, covertly brushing a finger along Austria’s perineum.

Or perhaps not so covertly, for Austria gently pulled him back and said:

“Do you want to be inside of me?”

“What?” He blushed.

“You understood me perfectly well.”

Austria reached down to the crumpled heap of his trousers, pulled out a little flask and put it in Prussia’s hands.

Prussia stared at it.

“I don’t have to explain what this is or what I expect you to do with it, do I?” There was a hint of annoyance in Austria’s voice.

“No, but…” Prussia trailed off.

“But what?” Austria didn’t let him get away that easily. “‘But I thought you wouldn’t want this’, or ‘but I thought you wouldn’t let me’?”

“Both, I think,” Prussia said sheepishly.

“Well, both assumptions are wrong,” Austria said. “Maybe you should ask the next time you assume.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries.” Austria sighed and put a cushion under his loins before he turned on his stomach and laid back on the couch. “Before you make the next false assumption, allow me to point out that I was expecting for us to have sex ever since it didn’t work out the last time. I don’t think much preparation will be necessary.”

“…Oh.” If Prussia hadn’t been fully hard already, he would have been now. Then a nasty voice inside his head asked him, …but do you think it was you Austria was thinking about when he did that? He tried to push it to the back of his mind.

Prussia opened the bottle and spread the oil over his cock until it was slick. Then he took the globes of Austria’s arse in his hands and started to knead them. They weren’t as soft as he had imagined, but felt just as nice. When he squeezed them, Austria arched up with a groan.

Unable to wait any longer, Prussia held Austria’s thighs as he positioned himself behind him. After aligning his cock with Austria’s hole, he started to push gently … and the tip of his cock went inside. Austria hadn’t boasted when he had said he had prepared himself.

When he was about halfway in, the base of his cock started to tingle. Prussia needed to take a break, holding Austria down until the sensation of an impending orgasm passed. He really didn’t need to approach sex with Austria from both ends of the embarrassment spectrum.

Austria didn’t move. If he had realised what was going on, at least he didn’t comment on it. At this point, Prussia was grateful for small mercies.

After he had caught himself, Prussia pushed inside. He needed to hold still for a moment—not for Austria to accommodate him but rather for his own sake, for coming to terms with the fact that he was actually having sex with Austria who was also letting him top.

He ran his hands over Austria’s back, caressing the beautiful shape of his body and admiring the tiny moles on it with his fingertips.

Then he started to move—gently, carefully—not that Austria was fragile, but the moment was; something he wanted to hold and write about in his diary…

“Can you turn around?” he asked nervously. “I want to see your face.”

“What a soppy thing to say,” Austria teased, but when he turned on his back, Prussia saw he was smiling. “Good thing you said it, or I would have needed to do that myself.”

Prussia couldn’t help it. He kissed him.

Austria held him close and kissed back, caressing Prussia’s neck with his fingertips.

Their bodies joined again almost naturally, as if they weren’t doing this for the first time together. It was what Prussia would have described as “making love” in his diary—their bodies gently rocking together, almost an afterthought to their kisses and caresses.

Then Austria angled their bodies in a different way. When Prussia rocked into him this time, a tremor went through Austria’s whole body, and Prussia knew what he had done. It was a bit embarrassing that he hadn’t found Austria’s sweet spot on his own, but seeing Austria come undone under him more than made up for that. It didn’t leave him unaffected. Watching Austria in extasy scored pretty high on the sexiest things he had ever seen, and he felt his orgasm build up again, this time with the inevitability of a natural force.

Austria seemed to feel it too. He reached between them and touched himself, making sure he reached his climax at the very moment when Prussia couldn’t hold it together anymore. Prussia’s orgasm overtook him, making his body jerk until all energy left him and he slumped down.

“Right,” said Austria after a moment, sounding far less affected than Prussia felt. “It seems there is something we need to work on.” He pushed Prussia’s body to the side, which slid from Austria to the couch like a rag doll. “Try not to fall down on me with your full weight. It’s pretty uncomfortable.”

“Sorry,” murmured Prussia with closed eyes. “I didn’t mean to; it just—happened.”

“It’s alright.” Austria’s tone softened. “Just try not to do it the next time.”

Prussia felt him get up, but he couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes in order to see where he was going. When Austria returned, it was with a wet cloth and a towel. He cleaned them before dumping both towel and cloth next to his trousers. Then he came back on the couch, gently pulling Prussia into his arms.

Prussia hugged him back, burying his face in the crook of Austria’s neck.

“So there will be a next time?” he asked uncertainly.

“If you want to.” He could feel Austria’s smile in the way the skin on his cheek tensed.

“It’s just … I don’t feel very … adequate as a lover,” he confessed. “It’s not only how I used to think about you. It’s also … you know exactly what you want and how you want it, and I…” He trailed off. “I just don’t think I can satisfy you very well.”

“So you think it’s better for me not to get satisfied at all?” Austria’s tone was gentle. He cupped Prussia’s head in his hands and leaned his front against Prussia’s. It was a position that made it impossible for them not to look at each other—except if Prussia closed his eyes, and he had done that one too many times already.

“Obviously not, but … Well, I just don’t know what you want with me.” He heard it himself how snotty he sounded.

“Hey.” Austria caressed his hair. “Sex isn’t just about the physical act—well, at least for me, it isn’t. It’s about being with someone you care for and about making them feel good.” He kissed Prussia on the lips. “You make me feel good, and I want you to feel good as well.”

Prussia was still sceptical, but he decided not to harp on about it.

“Speaking of making you feel good…” Now it was Austria who sounded a little embarrassed. “You know, I’m actually not set in the position I take…”

“Oh.” Prussia blushed as he realised what Austria was implying. “I … don’t know…”

“I know there are a lot of assumptions about men who prefer to take the so-called ‘female position’…” 

“That you don’t seem to care about,” Prussia pointed out.

“That I manage to ignore for most of the time,” Austria corrected him. “In any case, I realise that it may be difficult for you to take this into consideration, especially with me.”

“Been there, done that?” It was a shot in the dark, but Prussia could tell from the contrite smile on Austria’s face that he had hit the mark.

“I believe,” Austria said thoughtfully, “that if we want to make this relationship work, the both of us will need to bite the proverbial bullet in some respects.”

“So you just decided you would do that first?” Prussia was confused. “As … I don’t know, a sign of goodwill?”

“Did the sex we just had feel like a sign of goodwill to you?” Austria’s tone was sharp again.

“No,” Prussia mumbled. “It was bloody amazing. At least for me.”

“Not just for you.” Austria hesitated. “It was the way I hoped it would be. Gentle … and loving.” He blushed. Prussia realised he wasn’t the only one for whom it was difficult to talk about feelings, only Austria seemed to have more practice.

Alright, he thought. Bite the bullet. How hard could it be?

“I … can’t promise anything…” His courage faltered. “ButImightwanttotry.”

“Hmm?” There was a sly, private smile on Austria’s face. Prussia just knew he was teasing him now.

“I said I’ll try,” he blurted out.

-

Lovino was very new at this, Ivan soon learned. He could barely ride! After many hours, they made camp for the night. They hadn’t gotten very far. Ivan sent Lovino off to find food while he tended to the horses.

Miraculously, Lovino came back with a wild rabbit. Ivan didn’t question it, and prepared it when Lovino expressed his inability.

As they sat around the fire, Lovino spoke. “I know you think you don’t need me, but tensions are high.”

“I would be fine,” Ivan ground out.

“But you wouldn’t. Last time was a disaster. We need this alliance, Ivan, and we need to do it without more problems.”

Ivan turned away. “That wasn’t my fault.” He was aware he was probably pouting, but didn’t much care.

Lovino sighed and turned towards the horses, probably to try to groom them. Ivan didn’t see what happened, but suddenly the area was full of blue and purple light,  the fire was out, and his legs hurt. Lovino gave him a hasty “don’t move” before galloping off after the spooked horse.

Ivan couldn’t see how he could do anything but not move. Ivan couldn’t see much of anything, right now, as black spots clouded his vision, and soon slumped over in a deep, deep sleep.

-

Ivan was comfortable. Quite comfortable, and he didn’t want to open his eyes. Opening them would mean he was awake, and being awake meant he had to start his day. He nuzzled deeper into the covers, which smelled faintly of earth and life and growing things. He started drifting off again.

Wait.

Nothing in the palace smelled like that.

His eyes shot open.

He was in a room he’d never seen before. It looked like a simple cottage, with a hearth, a chair, a single bed. Across the room was a worktable with various tools scattered on top. There was clutter and signs of life everywhere, but whoever owned this house had just recently left, it seemed. There was still a fire going, and it looked like something was cooking.

Well. Ivan shouldn’t overstay his welcome. He threw back the covers and made to stand up.

“Hey!” A blonde boy, with wavy hair and glasses over big eyes stood right there and Ivan didn’t see him come in? He didn’t see him anywhere a second ago? “You shouldn’t be moving so soon, you were really hurt…”

When Ivan made no move to lay back down, the boy pushed him back with surprising force. Ivan tried to speak, but nothing came out. The boy started to fade out.

“I made soup!” The bowl looked as if it were floating on its own, as the young man holding it flickered in and out of existence. “I’m not sure if you should have it, though, I don’t know if you’re like me or what it’ll do to you.”

Ivan had no idea what he was talking about, but he was hungry and didn’t know what was going on. He held out his hands for the bowl. It floated in and Ivan took a sip.

“Is it good?” Asked the boy.

“Yes,” said Ivan. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I guess you’re human. They give each other their names for every little reason. Maybe you should ask something else.” He gave a nervous chuckle.

Ivan didn’t know what that meant, or what else to ask, so he tried again. “What...can I call you?”

“Better,” the young man smiled, “You can call me Ursalia.”

Ivan wanted to share his - it was only polite! - but Ursalia stopped him. “Maybe you should get to know me first,” he said, “you’re not like me and I don’t like trapping people.”

Ivan shrugged and finished the soup. Ursalia seemed nervous. “Why are you called Ursalia?”

“I’m not, usually,” he said, “but my home has many bears.”

“I’ve been through these woods a bunch of times, and have never seen a bear.”

Ursalia laughed, light and free. “This isn’t my home! I’m just staying here for a while.” The smile was gone.

“Why?”

Ursalia looked at him, firelight glinting off his glasses. “You shouldn’t pry. It’s almost as if no one taught you the rules.”

“Rules?”

“Of the fae.”

Ivan frowned. Realization dawned on him as he looked at the empty bowl of soup. He’d been an *idiot*, far too trusting, too naive just like his sisters always said.

Ursalia looked surprised and a little hurt. “It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you. You understand the trouble I’d be in if you knew my name, just like you’d be in trouble if I knew yours!” He also looked at the empty bowl. “It wasn’t poison, and it should be okay. It was made with what I found in the woods, not magic.”

Ivan didn’t feel convinced, but, okay. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded, “Why am I here? What happened to my horses? Lov - my companion?”

The young man sat at the workbench, back to Ivan. He’d gone quiet, and Ivan had to strain to hear. He was fading again, too.

“It was my brother. I left home because of him, but he followed me, and, I’m sorry, we met at your camp.”

“Oh?”

“We fought and he left again, probably to tell someone he’d found me, and one horse got hit. It ran off, and your friend went to look for it. You were hit, too. Your legs, they’re hurt. I did my best but they’re not completely healed, my magic isn’t strong here. I don’t know when you’ll be able to walk again.”

That was...a lot to take in. Ivan didn’t know what to say. “I’m supposed to be meeting with another kingdom. I’m a prince, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Ursalia said, “I didn’t mean to bring you into this. I couldn’t just leave you out there! I don’t know what his magic might do to a human.”

Ivan couldn’t stand just laying there. He threw the blankets off, revealing his heavily bandaged legs, and got up.

Or, tried to.

He shuffled his legs off the edge of the bed while Ursalia watched. Holding the bed for balance, he stood up and immediately his legs gave out as pain shot up his calves.

“I told you. You should stay here until you’re better,” Ursalia told him.

Ivan slumped back. “But I can’t. I’m a prince, I can’t just sit here. I have duties to attend to and an alliance to form. How do I know how much time has passed?”

Ursalia shrugged. He looked uncomfortable. “Sorry, but, there’s nothing else you can do. It’s probably the same time pattern as outside. I’m hiding in your world, not mine.”

Frustration grew with each passing moment. Roderich, since he had come from the hospital, didn’t leave the bedroom.

It had to be just a dream – no, a nightmare. This was a nightmare. It had to be.

Oh God, tell him that it was just a nightmare and that he woke up in the morning... normal.

He was... Normal.

He tried again to move his finger.

Failed.

Frustrated, he shouted with all his might.

That morning, oh, that fateful morning, he had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a disease that affects the ability of nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord to communicate effectively.

That broke his heart... How would he play his instruments? How would he give music lessons? How would he take care of his wife... and their daughter and the one to come?

He cried with all his might until the door opened suddenly. Erzsébet burst in and grabbed Roderich's hands; her eyes were red with a mixture of uncertainty and determination.

"Come with me…"

"I can't…"

Erzsébet, determinedly, put his arm around her neck and made him stand up. He managed to walk with difficulty and, despite being pregnant, Erzsébet managed to take him to the garden in the back of the house.

"Do you remember when this tree was small and broke?"

"Yes…"

"We put a band to support it and look how it is now, big and strong..."

She looked at him and squeezed his hands again. He looked away. It was unworthy to look at a woman as strong as Erzsébet.

"You will be like this tree, Rod..." she began and Roderich saw her tears forming. "You are strong... The doctor said that although there is no cure, you can get better if you do the treatments and the therapy."

"But I can also get worse ... and be a burden to you."

"No, Rod, you'll never be a burden," she shook her head. "The future is uncertain... it always was. Maybe tomorrow the cure is found or maybe it will take years for that... But you have to fight. You're going to win this fight, Rod. "

"Who guarantees you that?"

"I believe in you."

Roderich looked at her in surprise. No, deep down, he knew that. He knew the blind love she had for him... What a fool... To have doubted her... To have thought that he was the only one suffering from that situation.