Author's Note: *Revised!* This is a short piece about the very end of World War II. The reference is to German influence in Swedish culture.
Enjoy!
A bullet couldn't kill him, nor could a blade or bomb. But this could.
They were like that.
Ludwig stood alone as his demise drew near, watching from a large window as the Allies closed in on the city of Berlin.
Everyone else was gone now; the building was dark and desolate, and only he remained within. Ludwig felt as though he were trapped in some hellish nightmare, a dreamy, surreal feeling freezing him in place. He couldn't look away from the horror beyond the window, and yet, there was nothing he could do to stop any of it.
There was no escape from his end, he would be forced to watch it.
The explosions were sounding more frequently, unseen except for the smoke which would rise up above the buildings only blocks away, bringing more death and destruction to his beloved city. But, it was nothing he hadn't done to others. Other nations, other capitals, some hundreds of miles away. He had made them bleed, and now all the powers of the world were coming to make him pay.
Another blast. A red flag. His chest ached and burned as the city was torn asunder, yet he held his poise at the widow and witnessed it all.
A gun couldn't kill him, but this could...
There were footsteps behind him.
The list of who it could have been had become so short. He found himself feeling unconcerned with it.
Instead, his eyes were following the demonic plumes of smoke as they rose up into that black sky. Sometimes there were flames, mostly there was gunfire. Screams and dust clouded the streets below.
God, the pain in his chest.
"There isn't much time."
It was hard to hear over the ache, his thoughts, and the ringing in his ears from the last explosion. Still, he was able to recognize the voice he heard, and the shock was enough to jolt him, even if he hadn't honestly had time to comprehend what the voice had said.
A single step backwards and Ludwig turned from the window, seeing the tall figure walking into the broken room. His light hair and skin seemed to bring him forth out from the darkness, which instead materialized around him in the form of his long, dark coat.
"Sweden," the surprise in his voice was audible but it died quickly.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Neutrality.
He thought the word bitterly.
But, in the end it was all bitter, wasn't it? Every decision, every action…or the lack thereof. Perhaps the older nation already knew that. Perhaps that was why he had stayed away.
"There is not much time." His voice was low and rumbling, but each word was annunciated fully, as though he was trying to speak clearer.
Normally, their eyes would have locked and he would have brought himself up to full height to face another nation, but his chest hurt far too much to swell with false pride now. Ludwig honestly felt more inclined to collapse against the window.
What was ego worth in a place such as this?
"I know." the German eventually answered, his voice broken and dry.
There wasn't much time before...
The Swedish kingdom advanced on him until he was standing awkwardly close, though he still kept his hands folded behind his back in a proper manner. The musky scent of pine and of cold water reached him easily. A part of him simply wished to close his eyes and relax into such a pleasing smell, but he only continued to look up into those hard eyes.
It forced him to remember unpleasant things, however. Ludwig had offered his friendship to him once, and he had rejected him.
Berwald had told him he smelt of war.
If it was possible, the wretched pain in his chest grew worse.
"Why have you come?" he snarled like a wounded animal; distrusting and made aggressive by pain and fear.
For a long time, the tall nation continued to remain silent. He said nothing, only gazed at him from behind the thin glass of his spectacles. First, as though he were observing him, and then in a more distinct way.
When the German state stopped recoiling from the northern nation's powerful stare, he found that those pale, sea-green eyes were more open now, looking between his as if searching for something. Or perhaps trying to communicate with him silently.
Another sudden explosion shook the air around them harder than the angriest of thunder strikes. Ludwig forgot all about his strange visitor for a moment, desiring only the ability to give in and collapse. To let the end come now, instead of waiting for it in agony as he was.
And he might have, if he hadn't been seized so suddenly.
Apparently, his guest was tired of waiting for him to decipher whatever message he was trying to convey.
"I will hide you." he told him, his eyes hard and extremely serious.
It took the weakened man a moment to recover from the shock of the distance between them vanishing, and to wince in pain at the iron grip around his biceps. He tried to process what Berwald had said, but he only frowned.
Hide him?
He didn't mean it literally. He couldn't. His neutrality prevented him from intervening in any direct way. Not to mention the Allies would tear him apart if he tried to get between them and their prize.
"Give yourself to me, in part, and I will hide you." his eyes moved up to the window as the tight grip on his arms loosened, but remained firm and strangely inescapable. "Then, when it's over, when they leave your borders, come back to me, and I will return to you what is yours."
...A pact?
Germany's eyes fell to the floor with the weight of his offer.
If it was exposed that Berwald had even come to speak with him there would be hell to pay for his nation. He couldn't allow this; it wasn't right. Not to a nation as calm and kind as Sweden. Even though he had denounced his offer of friendship in favor of clinging to neutrality, at this point, Ludwig thought he might have understood. He wouldn't allow the kind nation to threaten himself with the risk of an undeserved punishment.
Using all of his strength to pull away, he faced the window again and resumed his pose.
"Leave me."
His words came out harsh, so much so that he nearly cringed when they were echoed back at him by the hard, cold walls that housed the empty room.
Silence followed that. An absolutely unnerving silence. Even in the world beyond the window it fell hellishly quiet.
Ludwig grimaced.
Why didn't that bastard go back to his beautiful country and let him face the shame of his defeat alone?
A sharp bolt of pain caught his attention and he then looked beyond the windowpane in earnest. That red flag in being raised in the distance...it wasn't the red of Germany. It was an eastern color of red.
Wouldn't be long now...
The minutes dragged by agonizingly before there was a crisp, solid footstep in his direction. Berwald stood behind him, not touching, but close enough for him to feel the intensity that seemed to roll off this man in tangible waves. Ludwig squinted, feeling as though he might be crushed beneath it, as goddamned hollow as he felt then.
"Tyskland." he muttered, his head turned to bring his mouth closer to the German's ear. "Deutschland. Please,"
His body betrayed him with a violent shutter that slid down the length of his spine. Those words were uttered so profoundly. His name, spoken so profoundly. He would never forgive himself if his tears fell in front of the Nordic kingdom, so he took his time composing himself before speaking. Though even then, he could only manage a low whisper.
"Too many have suffered because of me already," he told him, his head lowering and turning to the same side, though he didn't look at him. "And I would not have you counted among them."
"There isn't much time." he told him again, blatantly ignoring his concern as he stepped and forced the German nation to face him once more. "I was required to deny you before, but this will only be known between us. Act of…friendship."
The last word caught as it was spoken aloud, and he finally realized what the northern kingdom had been trying to tell him through his silence and his presence.
This meeting was about far more than friendship. Sweden was breaking laws and violating treaties just to stand before him. He was threatening to bring the wrath of the Allies against his country simply for speaking to him. But his offer…his offer was nothing short of suicide.
Yet, it explained to Ludwig why he was here.
The Swedish nation was here because of something they were not supposed to feel. Something they were not allowed to feel. It was the same feeling that had Ludwig nearly bursting with glee when he went to offer the Swedish kingdom an alliance, and it was the same feeling that left him absolutely crushed and inexplicably upset when he had been rejected. Sweden watched him silently from the north, and Germany had plenty to be concerned with further south, but he couldn't deny that there was an attraction. A draw. A silent magnetic pull that tugged them together in secret ways every chance they had.
Ludwig wouldn't have said love, perhaps Berwald wouldn't have either, but whatever it was, it was now allowed loose between them by his acknowledgement. It swelled up and consumed him, bringing them together in a clash that reminded Germany of water against rock. Briefly, the imaginary roaring of the sea overpowered the thundering of artillery in his ears and as they met corporeally, Ludwig found that Berwald's flesh was not as cold as he might have expected.
Berwald held him in his powerful arms, a warm hand cupping his face.
"You agree?" The tall kingdom's eyes were unwavering.
Germany swallowed audibly, but nodded, agreeing to a proposal he couldn't have possibly imagined himself accepting. "Yes."
Selfishness. He supposed in the end, that was what it always came down to for their kind. And somehow, he found he wasn't feeling nearly as guilty as he thought he would.
The decision thus made, they both moved away from the window. No one could ever know about this, and Ludwig told himself no one would.
The Swede would save him, would hide a part of him away where it could never be destroyed by the Allies, and the German would offer him a chance to come together just once before his end.
They allowed their lips to meet, timidly at first. A testing kiss. One that took a moment to honestly occur because neither of them actually wanted to be the one to initiate contact. It was a dance between shy partners, so naturally, it was slow to begin. Ludwig closed his eyes into the kiss when the Swede finally captured his touch, focusing entirely on the feeling of his surprisingly yielding lips. Despite the fact that what was happening between them felt it was already moving far too fast for his comfort, the German was the first to reach up and set his hand on Berwald's face more firmly. Once this was accomplished, the mood between them seemed to shift, and their found their courage within their pact.
Or, perhaps, they both simply felt that it served no purpose to continue being shy at this point.
With that, the Swede suddenly took charge, kissing him forcefully and without reserve. A swell of emotions overtook the injured state, as this surprised him. He then responded with more violence than skill to the engagement of his mouth. He would be dead long before his pride would fully concede, and some part of him refused to allow himself to be taken without due struggle. This aggression was met with ardor, however, which created a confusing mixture of irritation and eagerness within Ludwig's chest.
Curiosity and fear.
His domineering pride and having it threatened.
Frustrated and unsure of how to reconcile these feelings within him, the German grasped the dark coat of his antagonist fiercely. Then, with a quick, powerful movement, drove him backwards. Their mouths dislodged from each other as Berwald was knocked back, his hands releasing Ludwig only by force. Immediately after this was accomplished, however, Ludwig found himself missing the strange sensation against his lips.
The tall man standing before him paused for a moment, completely unreadable. He didn't look pleased with the disruption but, having been forced away some distance, seemed to be willing to give Ludwig the space he needed to accept his situation.
So, they were silent.
Alliances, pacts, treaties…they had no time for these, no time to draw up a formal document that wasn't supposed to exist. This entire meeting was of the utmost secrecy, so it would, in fact, be ideal if absolutely no evidence was left. Thus, this was how they would seal their agreement. They were the bodies of nations; their physical unions could be used in place of something written by state dignitaries. Somewhat soothed by the notion that Berwald had purposely chosen this method over bringing a pre-written contract with him, the German incarnate allowed himself to relax more into this idea, though it brought heat to his cheeks even in such a time as this. He would offer his physical body to the Swedish nation to serve as the vessel through which they would seal this secret pact.
When the shorter blond finally grunted, feeling a bit less overwhelmed, he made to tug back the man he had pushed away.
A sudden sound, similar to a snarl, and Ludwig found himself once more entrapped in a painful grip before he could blink. The Swede moved with such a violent intensity, responding to Ludwig's far more lenient actions with a ferocity that he couldn't have anticipated. Berwald's eyes were bright with a similar combination of anger and desire and, with a far more forceful shove, slammed his back against the cold wall.
He grunted again in pain, then fastened his hands on the Swede's arms and stared at him testingly. They glared at each other, but slowly they resumed, now each far warier of the other's pride.
Their lips met tentatively, as though they were testing deep water; hesitant, weary, but seeking. Always seeking. Their mouths opened more amiably to each other, tongues performing a shallow dance before daring to dive deeper, feeling the sharp, hard ridges of the other's teeth as much as they felt the seductive, silken inner walls between. Absently, he noticed that Berwald tasted of something like tea, and a heavier, more comfortable breath was exhaled through his nose. Having given in more fully, their actions began to grow bolder.
Friendship, Ludwig scoffed silently as his fingers curled into Berwald's hair and the Swede grasped the back of his neck firmly. If he had truly come in friendship, they would have simply shaken hands.
German teeth met a Swedish tongue, and their hot mouths moved and communicated with each other without ever losing contact. Their kisses were quickly growing rougher, but to Ludwig, that made them feel real. And at a time when he thought he wouldn't be able to feel anything other than pain, he was willing to sacrifice the rest of his broken pride for the northern nation's indemnified affections. The Swede's body was as firm and solid as the wall behind him, though when his hands moved against him again, they weren't grabbing him in a hard, bruising grip any longer. Instead, they moved over his body far more tenderly, as though he intended to draw a map afterwards. He appeared to be memorizing his contours as his large hands moved over him in such a steady manner. Ludwig closed his eyes and breathed; he could deal with that much.
Slowly, he was beginning to wrap his mind around what was happening between them then, what they were about to do, and why. Berwald had promised to take parts of him into himself and to protect them from the Allies. Ludwig didn't know how this would actually manifest but, as the incarnate of the state of Germany, he had the power to do this. He had the power to take the things that created, sustained, and defined his nation, and to give those things away. He knew that everything would be at stake once the Allies arrived. They could destroy him, if they wished. They could kill his people, burn his art and architecture, outlaw his philosophies and imprison his writers…hell, if they really wanted to, they might be able to erase him from history entirely. His beloved country, a country that had been trying so hard for so long. He had to do something to save it, even a part of it. Anything. And Berwald knew all of this.
This man was just the same as him: the incarnate of the nation of Sweden. He had all of the same powers that Ludwig did, and he had come with an offer. The glimmering hope of salvation. Maybe not for Ludwig as he was; after all, it was entirely possible that this would be the last time they ever faced each other. Nations were rarely ever rebuilt without drastic change, even for their incarnates, but Berwald carried with him a promise for Germany. A promise to absorb these vital aspects of Ludwig's identity, and to protect them.
There was no stopping the Allies at this point: Feliciano was gone and he hadn't seen Kiku's face in what felt like ages. He knew they were both suffering. Neither of them had the power to save him, not when Germany, the one who had always been the one who came to the rescue, could not save himself.
No, Ludwig had no delusion of such rescue.
However, after the war ended, after the Allies had…dealt with him as they saw fit, it could be that he might survive. There was a faint chance that the nation of Germany could live on as it was, more or less. If this was so, then anything fundamental to the German state that had been lost or torn away after the war would have a chance to survive in Sweden, and could be reclaimed quietly in the years following the departure of the Allied Nations.
And yet, if it was that when the war was over and the Allies disbanded he was no longer breathing, Berwald still held an assurance for him. If no new nation came to take his place, and if he did not return, a part of Germany could continue to live on through Swedish nation. These things that he held so dear could be saved and protected and cherished, even if he were gone. Berwald would do this for him, an act that could bring unfathomable wrath down upon his nation if he was caught, and asked for nothing in return.
Only, that wasn't quite true, Ludwig thought.
With these kisses, with these actions, he was asking something of him. This gesture was meant to offer something even deeper than Ludwig's own deliverance. If this bond was forged between them, it would not be out of duty to others or spite for the Allies. It would be between them alone, and Berwald was asking for it to be a symbol of deeper feelings that were not only known, but returned.
Though he doubted the use of the word still, he knew he was asking for Ludwig's love in return.
The German's tongue took a turn to run across the shared line of their joined lips, and then, emboldened to a degree, pressed forward once more into that burning mouth. He stroked the soft inner walls, rubbed against the ribbed roof, and tasted the sweetness of his tongue as they then locked their slick muscles together in a fit of passion. He was overwhelmed by a feeling Ludwig could only describe as a strange sort of intense hunger.
Berwald sighed in a manner that sounded like he was torn between contentment and longing. Between the feelings of having a powerful desire satisfied and the frustration of still being teased and tempted. The German might have smile; he completely understood.
Ludwig pulled back then. Their lips glistened wetly, hot and sensitive and left partially opened, just begging to be brought together again. Their hooded eyes met, clouding with the desire that was already overwhelming the fears in his mind. He couldn't deny that he wanted the man pressing him hard against the wall, but it was a question of something far greater than that. Something he was not-and had never been-certain of.
…Love?
The German nation could not deny that, prior to this event, he had long desired the Nordic kingdom in secret. On many occasions over the years, Ludwig had noticed that during their meetings or larger conferences that the stoic blond's eyes often came to rest on him, even when he was not speaking or acting. He would just watch him, almost as if he were studying him. Ludwig's gaze often shied away from such attention, but Berwald's eyes never darted away once he had been caught. If anything, he looked at him even more intently. Perhaps that was what had truly caught his attention at first. However, when even after many years those artic blue eyes never shifted to anyone else, he began to contemplate the nation more honestly. The fierce Sweden, the neutral nation of peace who had once owned such a fearsome and bloody reputation that, even in modern times, many powerful nations feared to enrage him.
He was so intimidating that smaller nations trembled at his mere approach, but he spoke so little of what he was thinking. He was mysterious. It had captivated Ludwig, and the more he observed Berwald, the more endlessly enthralled he became with him until he was hiding a true desire. A desire, which had far too quickly outgrown the realm of alliance or friendship.
Berwald stood before him now, his breath warm and sweet even as they were pressed in the corner of a room which was filled with only growing shadows and the sounds of war. Gently, tenderly, he raised a hand to cup his face once more. Ludwig wanted little more than to melt into such a strangely comforting feeling, but as they looked at each other now, the shorter blond knew they were both aware of the same dreadful truth: this could very well be both the first and the last time they ever do this.
The darkness of the room beneath the gray sky was becoming more honest now. The splitting sound of gunshots beyond the window grew louder. A weaker part of him wished only to surrender into Berwald's arms completely and to hide in his chest until they were found. But he had never been ruled by this part of himself. The knowledge that this was important in regards to the nation of Germany was enough to get him to lift his head a little higher so that they could look at each other more evenly. He would do this for Germany. Whether or not he would also do it for himself was still yet to be decided.
With this fueling his movements, the German moved his hand to hold the back of Berwald's neck and pulled him into another intense kiss. He let his other hand move as it pleased across his chest while their lips moved against each other's, harboring an intimate dance between the slick muscles within. A stronger hand came up to hold his back, pressing their chests together while the other held his face, those long fingers brushing teasingly over the sensitive skin of his neck. He trembled at this as a burning heat blossomed within his body. Increasingly overwhelmed, Ludwig's breathing came harder as the war seemed to fade away and his deeper, secret desires came out to be acknowledged. Each inhalation was heavily scented with that intoxicating musk known to belong only to the stoic nation, and he now found that it made his knees pathetically weak. A strong, thick thigh pressed between his legs, helping to hold him up against the wall as well as to coax their bodies closer together.
He reached up and removed Sweden's glasses quickly, setting them down on the nearby windowsill. The taller nation didn't seem to care for his lack of vision, and suddenly began to unfasten the German's jacket with far more speed than Ludwig thought he should have been able to. He opened his mouth in surprise, but Berwald took the opportunity to kiss him again, pulling him away from the wall to force him out of his formal uniform. When it fell to the floor, he then released him just long enough to shed his own heavy coat. With only their shirts between them, the Swede roughly resumed their position against the wall, going for his throat to ensure he still had Ludwig's full attention. Had they not been worried about leaving evidence, the shorter blond was certain he would have been bitten into mercilessly in a fit of passion, but he only received hard kisses and teasing brushes of teeth which would leave his skin glowing a soft red, but would fade quickly.
The Swedish kingdom still seemed to be observing him though, Ludwig thought. He was kissing his throat and jaw in different places and gauging his reactions behind an emotionless face. The German didn't have the power to try to hide from him behind his own stern expression, and submitted willingly to the northern nation's actions. As a reward for his compliance, Berwald made a point to focus on the places that got the most eager responses out of him. It was almost truly pleasurable, though such a word didn't belong in a wretched place like this.
As an instinctual response to the kisses and the short, burning sweeps of a hot tongue against his neck, Ludwig raked his hand through the Swede's hair roughly, able to feel the blood within him warm more honestly. He was then intrigued by the way he could feel Berwald tremble pleasantly in reaction to his touch. A sort of small assurance, he supposed, of affections requited.
Yet, their current situation did not permit them time to continue learning and exploring each other's bodies long. They both knew any time they had was precious, and so Berwald pulled back and righted himself, their eyes holding each other's gaze intensely.
There hadn't been much time when he had first arrived, and the smell of battle was creeping ever closer.
"I will only take what you give me," Berwald told him in a stern tone, but one that offered him some semblance of comfort.
His voice was firm and steady, but Ludwig could see that his eyes had softened. A transition that he thought was not dissimilar to the melting of ice.
Despite everything about their dreadful situation, the German believed he had never been looked at with such tenderness. Under the Swede's now-gentle eyes, he felt as though he was truly being looked at for what he was, even if he himself didn't know exactly what that was. It awoke something within in him as he nodded, and as they came together again.
Although he knew that everything, every part of himself that he didn't give to the Swedish nation would be at risk, he had no intention of giving him everything. He had held so many things that had been fouled and corrupted, though perhaps some of those things were in part what had spawned the degradation and odium under which he now suffered. He would never give Berwald everything.
No, if it was that he was no longer standing after the dust settled in Berlin, he would not leave the Swedish kingdom holding anything evil to remember him by. He returned his love that much, at least.
So, as the taller nation began to move more purposefully to loosen and discard the items of dark clothing that got in their way, Ludwig began to think this through carefully, deciding what was worthy of preservation and what was not.
In spite of the gravity and solemnity of his current situation, the German was easily pulled from his thoughts when he couldn't help but feel strange about being in such a state in what had once been his commanding office. His jacket was missing, the shirt beneath unbuttoned fully to expose his chest and torso, and his belt and pants were undone and pressed opened.
He felt a stronger sense of fear creeping in, then, tugging him further from the pleasurable haze that his mind had just been settled into. He felt terrified, actually. There was the threat of the Allies arriving at nearly any moment, there was the chill of the room and the ominousness of a dying city beyond what now seemed an absurdly large window, and there was, of course, the classic and timeless fear that was created by being at the threshold of intimacy—with another man no less—whilst having exactly no experience in such matters. If he hadn't felt so much like this was all a bizarre dream, he was certain all this would have conspired to make the next step impossible.
Berwald's shirt had been tossed away a moment ago, when Ludwig had been feeling much braver. His pants were also undone, though he blushed to look that way now. The Swede stepped forward, either unaware of his discomfort or appearing to disregard it. Ludwig's entire body now felt tense. The pain within his chest grew bolder and felt as though it was sapping his strength and his courage. He was nervous and anxious and, in the dimness of the room as Berwald's large shadow eclipsed him, he suddenly felt very small.
"Are you ready?"
Sweden's deep voice did sooth him in a strange way, but it was still hard to breathe when he nodded. He had no idea if he was ready, but the question was merely a courtesy; they had a limited amount of time to seal their agreement.
Though he knew what Berwald was doing was out of a desire to protect him, Ludwig was struck with the sudden fear that what was about to happen might be even more unbearable than what was to come once the Allies arrived. He had never used his physical body to seal an agreement like this. Nor had he ever used it recreationally, for that matter.
The fear of the unknown thus flooded over him without restrain.
Berwald must have realized how he was feeling, despite his best efforts to look calm and collected. The small, endearing smile that appeared on his lips infuriated the man witnessing it, feeling mildly patronized.
"Don't worry," was all he muttered to him, but as he said this, the taller man tugged him flush against his body.
His flesh was warm where they pressed together. Warm and fragrant and inviting. He pulled Ludwig to him and then simply held him, wrapping his strong arms around his body. The shorter nation was stiff and rigid for a moment but as the warmth invaded his chilled flesh he sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head at the bare juncture of the Swede's shoulder and neck.
Something between them changed in those few precious moments that they were still; something that had been heavy on the air simply vanished. It seemed to somehow change the entire mood between them, as well as ease the dark fear encroaching on Ludwig's mind. It was almost as though he had flicked on a light inside Ludwig's mind, chasing the growing shadows of his fears back to the corners where they belonged. This nightmare wasn't about to end, Ludwig thought, but for just a moment, the broken room around them was allowed to thus become some kind of sanctuary. Safe, if only for the moment.
Berwald held him until his mind quieted and his body was finally able to relax against him once more. Then, he brought his hand up slowly, tracing along his back up his shoulder to hold his jaw, and tilted his face towards him so their lips could be reunited.
Their compassionate kiss was short, but when parted they both looked at each other with far softer eyes. Then, Ludwig nodded honestly; he was ready.
As a kindness, the Nordic kingdom began slowly.
They didn't exactly have time for...romance, but even so, the taller man took his time, helping Ludwig to forget their need for haste. In the shadows, against the wall to the side of the window, Berwald kissed and teased and tasted him in a leisurely manner, slowly awakening an ardor within him that had been born of a dark, secret yearning.
He had desired Sweden, he admitted it to himself now. He had for several years now. He wasn't sure how Berwald had known this, but he suspected he had become aware of it back when he had arrived in Stockholm in order to offer the Swedish nation an alliance. Perhaps he had been too eager to present the offer to him, or too dismayed when the tall man had rejected him. Either way, he had only ever been able to makes guesses of Berwald's own feelings towards him, until now.
Their breathing began to come harder, his pulse climbing steadily with a strange sort of excitement. He would never admit to it, but for many years he had wondered alone at night what it might be like to lay with a man. Ludwig couldn't say that this was what he had imagined his first time to be like, exactly, but it was still thrilling in its own chaotic way. The momentum behind their actions was growing more honestly now, causing a heat to grow between them in a way Ludwig had never known possible.
It was a dark heat. A heat not of light, but of friction. A heat from within, burning its way out. Every brush of flesh, every stroke of Berwald's fingertips across his bare skin scalded him, causing the blood beneath the run hot with dark passion. The skin shielded from contact by their clothes hardly fared any better; the friction against this flesh seared even as so, and caused him to nearly cry out as the insides of his thighs were rubbed so incessantly against the shifting hips they surrounded. Now, as if it wasn't already hard enough for him to think and consider this situation in earnest, whatever the political, moral, or mental implications, a powerful part of his mind urged him to continue purely out of primal instinct. Lust.
Berwald let him down to stand on his own wobbly legs, but only for the time it took for those large hands to goad his pants into slipping down farther, falling off his knees. Fearful that he would become essentially chained at the ankles, Ludwig blushed as he stepped out of the garment and so his heavy boots, leaving his legs bare. But, before he could continue to try to play at being bashful, he was seized and lifted by the powerful nation before him, and his bare legs wrapped tightly around the solid body that was holding him so securely. He shut his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind enough to even have a small piece of clarity and logic to hold on to, but with his vision gone, it only heightened his awareness to the hands and mouth and body that were pressing against him, branding him with their passion. It was no use.
He opened his eyes again with a grunt of frustration that seemed to amuse his aggravator, which only served to vex and rile him even more. Ludwig was quick to respond to that, gripping Berwald in a far stronger hold, forcing their lips together tightly and biting them as punishment for frying his very last nerve. But the Swede came to him willingly, and even in response to the hard teeth against his tender lips, Ludwig swore he heard a whisper of a moan in his heavy breath. Even if that hadn't distracted him, the kiss certainly backfired. Their mouths sealed together, even as they moved against each other, and Ludwig found there was thus no escape from the endlessly intoxicating sensation that tasted like sweet nectar on his tongue and that made his knees tremble.
The room around them, a temporary haven from what lay just beyond, filled slowly with a different sort of energy. As they were trapped against each other so securely, Ludwig was nearly able to forget the awful, lonely aching he had suffered before. Instead, he silently relished in the feeling of being held so close, of the warmth of another surrounding him. Briefly, he imagined that invisible field of warmth protecting him, shielding him. Perhaps it was foolish to think of such things, but while Berwald's powerful body surrounded him, he simply felt safe.
And that was it. It clicked in Ludwig's mind like a piece falling perfectly into place. A realization. The touches, the tenderness, the wasting of the precious little time that they had just to make him feel comfortable, to hold him…Ludwig knew that if Berwald had only desired these things of this that threatened to be lost in the inevitable invasion, he could have easily come and taken them from him by force. He was in no condition to fight and it was known. Sweden could have wretched these things away from them and disappeared without ever being caught. And if he had only desired his physical form, he could have taken him in the same way. But he came with gentle words and far softer touches, and he held him like he was the most precious thing he had ever handled. He did this because he was asking, begging, pleading for Ludwig's answer.
His answer to the silent question Berwald had put to him.
It was now out of selfishness and not out a sense of duty that Ludwig returned the touches fully, eagerly, seeking to express the feeling that was beginning to well up in his chest. Doing his best to somehow express these things that had been hidden and denied for so long.
His arms wrapped around his neck and helped to hold himself up, but their bodies were still locked tightly together, and as they shifted and grinded against each other he was becoming aware of a far hotter sensation growing between them. He placed a hand firmly on the back of Berwald's head as the Swede nipped at his throat and exposed collarbone, letting him continue for a moment before he dragged him back into another long kiss. Their breathing was hard, just short of panting, and the warmth that had been spreading through his whole body was now turning hot. He dragged his nails across the wide back of Berwald's shoulders and felt him tremble with arousal. The brightness of his eyes darkened considerably, and it seemed that Ludwig had pushed his patience to its end.
"If we are to do this," he whispered huskily beside his ear, the hot breath making his eyes flutter shut. "We will need to do it now."
He swallowed, the nervousness threatening to return, but when he nodded Berwald immediately carried him to his desk, throwing whatever was in his way onto the floor with a sweep of his large arm.
He laid him down gently, and while Ludwig appreciated how the wood of his desk was not nearly as cold or abrasive against his back as the stone of the walls, he feared they were too exposed. Berwald followed his gaze with disinterest, and then looked back towards the door he had come from. The room was almost too dark to see in, even with the large window. They would not be visible to anyone unless they were being sought out. Ludwig was still struggling to throw off this concern, but Berwald hadn't pandered to his fears before and he didn't intend to do so now. Instead he pressed them hard against each other, leaning over him to steal another impassioned kiss. The German gave into the persuasion easily enough, and felt his growing excitement become trapped and teased by the solid body above him. Berwald moved his easily, rubbing and grinding and creating that same burning friction against his bare skin.
The Swede released one of his hips in favor of suddenly sliding it between their shifting bodies to grasp his hardening cock. Ludwig gasped loudly, the pleasure of another's touch so intense and so all-consuming that for a moment he could think of nothing beyond the man before him. Berwald seem to take this as a good sign, and stroked him at a teasing pace, seeking to arouse him fully, but to do so without pushing him over the edge too soon. Ludwig tried for a while to suppress the groans and hard breaths that desired to be expelled from his heaving chest, but eventually gave up. Handing the reins off to someone else for a change, taking his turn to just relish in the moment, and in the feelings of pleasure that flooded over him.
The Swedish incarnate above him must have either known or reasoned that young Ludwig had never been intimate with another, and so was careful to explain how they would proceed. The German blushed scarlet as these words were whispered in his ear, but nodded and allowed his legs to be pressed apart farther. The initial contact was extremely strange, but the constant kissing and attention to his mostly-erect manhood helped. Berwald was also surprisingly skilled and prepared him quickly, which helped more. He didn't want to linger on this part; his body could take what the Swede needed to give, but they would run out of time if he waited for him to feel entirely comfortable before continuing.
So, when his legs were lifted higher and spread apart even more, he simply clenched his jaw and nodded when the Swede paused to meet his eyes. The pain was searing, but only for a brief moment. Though they had only spent a little time on it, the preparation helped immensely. His body tensed in pain, but relaxed easily when the one penetrating him leaned in to press tender kisses to his lips and face, holding his hips completely still to give him a chance to become accustomed to the sensation.
When their bond was finally fully breached, when a mental connection suddenly clicked into place as their bodies connected, they both reached for each other, and Sweden prepared himself to accept what the man below him intended to give. He was ready now, he didn't have to think about it anymore; he knew what he wanted to protect.
Ludwig offered himself to the taller man, but not all of himself. With his body serving as the link through which he would conduct this exchange, the Germanic nation gave him only the elements of his culture that were worth saving. Nothing of feigned truths or of corrupted morals, but Germany held within himself so much more than that. He held fantastic things. Honorable things.
This physical bonding was still mirroring their pact, however, the actual trade felt strange, and it made his head ache and his vision blur. It also made him almost entirely numb to the physical sensation of their union. He was able to focus entirely on their exchange, pouring out from his dying heart everything that he truly believed was worth saving. The Swede, for his part, kept a steady rhythm and bowed his head, accepting everything he gave him with a profound reverence that caused Ludwig's eyes to water, even as he held them shut.
When the transaction was completed, when their exchange was successful and his eyes and senses cleared, he looked up to see the one who had accepted so much of him. Berwald's eyes were still shut, perhaps he was still feeling the effects, but he was thrusting into Ludwig's body without disruption, and it was then that the German was truly allowed to feel him.
He felt the Swede press deep inside, his virginal, innermost flesh yielding to the rigid shape of Berwald's sex. This caused him to take in a sharp breath, but when he began to withdraw, he fastened a hand on the Swede's bare shoulder and gripped him hard. The sensation was strange and created a strange feeling within him, one of almost-relief mixed with intense longing. Berwald pulled back until Ludwig was certain he was going to withdraw entirely, and he suddenly feared that their physical union would end with the ending of their exchange. However, just before it felt as though he were about to slip out, he suddenly thrust back in, those Swedish hips hitting his thighs forcefully.
He grunted loudly, a warm feeling of pleasure blossoming deep within his belly before it began to sink down with each thrust. Lower and lower, until each motion cause his own aching member to flex and strain with arousal. Each thrust drew out a loud gasp or soft groan, and even when he looked up and saw those intense eyes staring back down at him, he was completely unable to hide his reactions.
Berwald's eyes held him steadily, looking at him with such a profound expression that Ludwig couldn't even explain what it made him feel. He just felt his chest grow tight and warm, and felt as though now someone in the world actually understood him. And yet, the only physical evidence of this trade was in their immediate actions. Once they parted, there would be nothing, and he knew it.
So, in a fit of desperation, fearing that he would never again have the chance to tell him the truth, Ludwig pulled him closer, and between hard breaths, whispered his love aloud to the one penetrating him.
The Swede's movements ceased completely.
He instantly regretted what he had confessed, but before he could begin to try and escape his own words, Berwald's lips were upon his again.
It was a soft, sweet kiss. A lover's kiss.
He loved him back. It was why he was here, it was why he had risked everything to come to him. He didn't have to say it.
Their union didn't last long, though for a blessed moment it seemed to be the only thing that existed. Berwald's pale flesh and hair seemed to glow softly in the dim room, and somehow even that small bit of light felt like it could have blinded him. It was heavenly, even in a world that had so quickly gone to hell. His strong shoulders and biceps, those relentless muscles in his hips and torso, with all the power Berwald had, and he still the man beneath him with so much tenderness. Even when Ludwig gave in and let his dull nails claw into the Swede's broad back, and Berwald responded by thrusting into him hard enough to cause the heavy desk to creak. Even when he bit into his shoulders nipped at his neck and Berwald kissed him so ferociously his head hit hard against the thick wood, he still could feel the secret affection and compassion that dictated his actions.
Ludwig's heart ached at this, and unable to determine what to do with the overwhelming emotions this evoked in him, he strived to force Berwald to treat him rougher, to help the Swede lose himself in the passion and the pleasure as well.
He struggled against the nation above him, forcing him to restrain him. The Swede growled next to his ear, and pinned down his wrists above his head. Not so long ago, no one would have been able to do that to him, but he was weak enough now that Berwald only used one hand to capture him. He struggled still, kicking and biting when he was able. To his credit, the Swede seemed to enjoy this, stealing kiss and teasing his neck without much resistance, but eventually Ludwig was able to frustrate the stoic nation into grabbing him in a bruising grip, releasing his wrists in favor of grabbing him hard at the hips.
For a brief moment, Ludwig was fearful of what he might have done, but when Berwald's thrusts suddenly increased so intensely in speed and power, he quickly changed his mind. He was fucked so hard and so well that he could hardly remember what was happening or where he was. The German reveled in this for as long as he was able, until his body grew unbearably sensitive and his climax began to draw nearer.
He reached down, gripping himself in a weak attempt to keep himself from orgasming too soon, but a larger hand pushed him away and took his place. Berwald's thrusts were still as fast and frantic, but they were beginning to lose rhythm, and he eagerly stroked Ludwig in a similar fashion. Ludwig cried out in exquisite anguish and threw his head back against the desk helplessly, his claw-like hands tearing up the Swede's back and shoulders.
His entire body tensed, his orgasm unable to be denied any longer. Temporarily blinded by its intensity, the brilliant sensation rocked his body to the core, freezing his breath in his lungs, only allowing a short, choked gasp to escape his lips. Berwald continued to thrust into him, but the shorter man's rigidly locked thighs prevented much movement. Still, the shallow thrusts seemed to be more than enough for the Swede, and within only a few seconds of Ludwig reaching his climax, Berwald withdrew from his body and came hard across the German's stomach.
He watched with half-lidded eyes as their hot release mixed on his stomach and chest, only able to enjoy the sight until Berwald's body ceased to flex before his head fell back, deliciously spent.
The room fell silent aside from their heavy breathing.
Berwald stepped away suddenly and Ludwig's legs fell against the desk, sending a terrifying jolt through his body before the Swede quickly returned, bringing something to clean up the mess they had made. Berwald helped him up slowly, watching to see if he had hurt him, perhaps, but nothing the kind Swede could have done would have made him feel worse than before he had arrived, so he simply nodded and they began redressing.
When they were dressed once more, looking as they had in the beginning, aside from the hidden marks on the Swede's back and shoulders, Ludwig let out a weak breath.
That was it. He had given him everything he wished to protect, everything Sweden would hide.
All these things that Berwald now harbored were intangible, seemingly unreal, though they would be there as long as he decided to keep them. In spite of this, the Germanic nation found he couldn't help but desire some small bit of proof. It was a stupid thing to wish for, since it would only endanger their already perilous agreement, but the want was there all the same.
He stared at the other's back as he finished rebuttoning his coat, and when the Swede turned back to him, he apparently saw exactly what he had intended to hide.
"I cannot give you what you'd ask," he told him, walking closer again.
He was unable to hold his gaze, though those eyes were still gentle. "I know."
Another volley of artillery fire shook the room, but he almost didn't notice. A bit of gray, ghostly dust fell from the ceiling. Almost.
Berwald reached for him, and they drew each other in once more. There wasn't much time, but there was time enough for a kiss. A single, profound kiss that expressed more of themselves to each other than what either of them could verbally express in a year. It was all Berwald could give him, so Ludwig accepted it deep into his heart. They didn't know what would happen, but they had something to hope for now, and even when the tall man departed, his coat helping him to blend back in to the growing shadows, he somehow no longer felt alone.
When Ludwig closed his eyes, he saw the Swede. He heard his voice and remember his word, and it gave him comfort. A part of him now rested within the heart of one who had neither fought against him nor raised arms to aid him, but one who had come to him in secret speaking of desperate love. He was connected to that one now, and even when the smoke grew thicker and the shouting of voices became undeniably familiar, when he closed his eyes he swore he was able to catch the faintest scent of pine trees. Ancient ones, perhaps overlooking a place where the cold, northern water crashed against ancient, Swedish rocks.