Gilbert clenched his glass in his hand. His knuckles turned white with exertion, anger furthermore visible in his tight-lipped scowl. Out of the corner of his he watched his dumb little brother, tongue wagging as fast as a puppy’s tail, watching its owner come home. It was also just as pathetic as the same puppy that pisses itself out of pure joy at the owner's returnal. And that was exactly what Gilbert thought of Ludwig, until he kept on talking for what seemed an eternity about the only weapon he possessed: the fact that Gilbert had been dumb enough not only to fuck him once, but again and again for the months that had ensued.
I do cry for it. All Gilbert could see was the way Ludwig would yelp, even scream if he was rough enough. When he tugged on Ludwig's hair and his back arched the same as his neck before he would gasp, yelp, tighten. And I love it when he uses his stick on me. He could only see the way the lashes would raise welts, the way Ludwig's behind would colour red. And the way his heart would beat faster as he did exactly that, raise his hand to come down again and again and again until his erection strained his trousers.
Was it obvious? Gilbert felt his paranoia increase each time he fucked Ludwig. Did the maids know? Did they gossip about it? Would Austria and Russia even devote attention to something that seemed so ludicrous? He especially watched Ivan as he reacted, for out of everyone he had shared his bed with, it was Ivan who he found lying next to him the most often. And then he felt as pathetic as the puppy he envisioned Ludwig to be, hoping to not be rejected for who he was. He was the kind of man who could fuck his little brother and enjoy it, thirst for every minute of the pure power he possessed over puny Germany. Yet he also thirsted for the way Ivan demonstrated that there was still so much more power to have as Ivan would simply lie on bed and give only a single command: undress, Gilbert.
The first time it had happened he obeyed automatically. Hands shook as they unbuttoned layer after layer of clothing. Ivan stared at him as drily as if he were simply caught up in thought when looking out of the window. Perhaps it was that that made Gilbert then take a slow step towards the bed, only to stop halfway. I didn't tell you to come closer yet. And then Ivan smiled, leered at him, before telling him to make himself cum right where he was standing. It was all a game to Russia, whether it was love or war. And Gilbert wanted to play.
What would Ludwig think of ruthless Prussia, who deepthroated Ivan, crumbling and backward in development? Of Prussia gagging as his head was pushed down further, like every commonplace whore in the world.
"Ludwig, go get Loreley, then follow me," he said coolly, hand unclenching. "Excuse me." Gilbert stood up, buttoning his jacket, straightening his clothes, and taking his drink. Slowly he raised it to his lips. Then he emptied it over Ludwig's head. It was only enough that it dripped from his chin in a painstaking fashion, and enough to sate Gilbert's eternal drive to control all he could. You see, Prussia was more than discipline and order. Prussia was expectations that would always be met, whether by choice or by force. Prussia was being humbled to suck Russia's dick while on his knees, Ivan's trousers only unbuttoned. It would then rise, back straight, shoulders backward, because Prussia was pride. And his pride was untouchable, for he was Prussia and he was proud.
So he didn't even bother to say where he was going, for Ludwig would be quick enough to obey and to follow him. Ludwig himself would be quivering with excitement because this was an unknown for him. And Loreley? She would struggle so much harder than anyone else ever would. But Gilbert knew he could tame her, albeit with rough force. How would Ludwig react to that, to suddenly his actions having a consequence to his beloved, beloved sister? The beloved sister Gilbert knew Ludwig would so love to fuck - maybe had fucked?
He sat in the salon, waiting for only a minute before Ludwig entered, Loreley angry at him. But as soon as she realised who sat in front of her, smirk on his face, she pushed Ludwig away and scowled. It was such a shame, for Loreley was the most beautiful of all their siblings. She had a face that was timeless, graceful, stunning. Not the allure of Bohemia, the air of mystery, musk, pure sexuality. Rhineland was the epitome of simple charm. It was so easy to enjoy.
"Sit down, Loreley," he said breezily, uncrossing his legs to adopt a wider stance. Ludwig moved to join her, but a simple look and he stood there awkwardly. She first moved, her chin jutting upwards haughtily, to the chair next to him. "Oh no, right here," he then said, smirk widening as he patted the cushions next to him. It was so characteristic that she ignored the order, but so unwise as Ludwig had learned. It was much better to answer the simple, safe ones without sputtering. Disobey from the beginning, and you only seal yourself a much more cruel fate.
And indeed, Gilbert stood up and pulled her roughly onto the couch so that she now sat in the closest proximity possible without being on his lap.
"Excuse me?" she hissed, attempting to stand up. Only poor Rhineland's main asset lay in her looks, and not in her strength so she was easily defeated. What use were looks when she never truly possessed the cunning to use them to her benefit?
"I think it would be Ludwig who should excuse himself, actually. He's piss drunk at arguably at one of his main achievements as a country. I mean, one of my main achievements. So drunk that he began insulting Roderich and Ivan and even began to say how… Now what were his words?" Gilbert mused, arm now slung around her waist, drooping towards her hip. He curled a strand of her hair around his finger before the smirk resurfaced. "Ah. Yes. I do cry for it. And I love when he uses his stick on me. Now tell me Loreley, you know your twin brother best. What do you say? Is our dearest little brother lying?"
"I would say that such words surprise me considering that," she began , hand trying to push away Prussia's as she looked at Ludwig with the very fire in the eyes that characterise her so, "he claims to be no one's bitch. And he just told me how much he hates it that you control his every move. But apparently I don't know my own brother very well. Maybe we should switch roles and he wears woman's clothes instead."
"Good. Undress and hand your clothes to Ludwig. You too, Bursche, undress," Gilbert said, chuckling darkly as he pushed her off of his lap. "And if you won't do it yourself, I will do it for you."
Loreley glared at him, hands bunched into fists before she threw her head back.
"Fine. Unbutton the back."
First, he let his hands run over her shoulders, down her arms, stop briefly at her hips. His hot breath washed over the side of her face, every inch of his body pressing against hers.
"It's not the first time I've done this," Gilbert said, smirk curling up again as he looked at Ludwig. Button after button was popped, each layer of her clothing removed. Gilbert eyed her greedily. But it was not out of lust, but out of vengeance. He couldn’t care less about her and her looks other than mild appreciation. "Now you look like the bitch you are,” Gilbert scoffed, sauntering over to stand behind Ludwig. “Tell me, what else do you say about me? About your hatred for me, even though you claim you enjoy the seks we apparently have? For each thing Loreley tells me, I'll hit you once. For each thing you tell me, I'll hit her twice. But if you don't want to play my game and you both stay silent, you, Ludwig, can sit and watch while I fuck your sister."
He was standing by the door now, locking it and tucking the into a breast pocket. Nobody was leaving. For now Ludwig could see whether he would have Loreley receive the punishment for his actions. Or if Loreley would even be willing to disclose incriminating fact after discriminating fact until Gilbert would be satisfied with the game. Now this was Prussia, because above all, Prussia was power
