Author's Note: For a friend of mine, so next time you ask 'where the hells my birthday present?' I can shove this fan fiction in your face…. Love ya bro, and I adore everyone that's reading this too!
A car was only as good as its owner was. Wealthy people owned sleek, unscratched cars with leather seats and glass as crystal clear as the Caribbean ocean. Their cars smelled faintly of money and some fancy French perfume. There were no cheap air fresheners hanging from the air vents, nor were there scuff marks from dirty work boots on the floorboard carpet. On the other hand, poorer people owned beat up, dented in, scratched up cars. The glass of their windows were dusty and cracked, just like the old mirror hanging in a grandmother's attic. If you were to look under the seat, you'd find candy wrappers and that old chap stick that the driver dropped and never bothered to search for. Little bread crumbs and sesame seeds were embedded into the floorboard carpet from that McDonalds hamburger that a child dropped in the back seat.
If you really observed someone's car, you could tell just what kind of person they were. Ludwig for example, was neither rich nor poor. He was a mechanic, living on a minimum wage pay check and eating mediocre wurst that he bought at the local supermarket. Not to say that he was poor, when he was no older than ten his parents had died in a car accident and left him a good sum of money. But he'd given most of it away. The German preferred to make an honest living.
Ludwig's car was what most people would call a 'teenagers car'. Something that your parents bought you for your first car; some old and already beaten-up Volvo or Jeep that had poorly-fixed dents and scratches all along it. Of course he'd fixed the exterior nicely, polished it and ridded it of all the dents. It was a deep navy blue color, with the exception of chipping paint on the bumper. The inside was mostly clean too, other than the near-empty can of hair gel and an empty can of coca-cola that he'd been drinking earlier that day as he fixed some rich British guy's 2013 Mustang.
Other than that, his car was almost always spotless. Except for February 21st, 2013. That day marked the third year that 26 year old Ludwig Bielschmidt and 24 year old Feliciano Vargas had been dating. They'd met three years prior to that day, when Feli had come bursting through the front doors of 'Alistair's Workshop' (as the large sign said out front) in tears, rambling nonsense about the end of the world. Ludwig, being the only worker in the shop, had awkwardly handled the sobbing Italian, thinking that something terrible had happened to him, only to figure out the Italian had just gotten a flat tire and didn't have a spare. For a moment he'd been a bit pissed, to have been dealing with this sobbing, childish man when he could of been working on his wealthy clients cars.
But after a while he'd calmed down, then had to practically sedate the younger by giving him some coffee with sleeping medicine in it. Once he'd gotten the Italian to a more peaceful phase, the two of them walked half a mile (Ludwig carrying all the needed materials to fix a tire) to Feliciano's car. Long story short, after fixing the Italian's tire he handed him a business card, mumbling something along the lines of 'call me and find a good time to pay' before heading back to the shop.
He would never of guessed two weeks later he got a call from Feliciano, not only paying for the tire fit, but proposing that they go out to dinner.
And three years later, they marked the anniversary of their first date, which had been to a nice Italian restaurant of Feliciano's choice. And at 9:30 PM on February 21st of 2013, the same hour that Ludwig had leaned over and kissed Feliciano three years ago, the German proposed to the caramel-eyed beauty. After ten minutes of the brunette sobbing in pure happiness and bliss, and several embarrassing cries of 'te amo!', Feliciano had replied to a very nervous Ludwig with 'yes'. Being in a public restaurant and all at the time, it'd been embarrassing to the maximum when Ludwig had noticed everyone was staring. But hey, at least the room was filled with 'aww!'s and 'how cute!' coming from every mouth of the people in the restaurant.
And now, in that very moment, Ludwig and Feliciano were in the back of the German's navy blue car. Feliciano's hand was pressed against the glass of the back-seat window, making a hand mark on the fogged up-with-panting glass. A golden ring was fitting snugly against his ring finger, the underneath of it had 'Ludwig & Feliciano forever' carved neatly into the gold. Cheesy? Yes. True? To the farthest extent humanly possible.
Heavy breathing filled the air, whines and moans and pleads left a certain Italian's lips, his hand sliding down the glass in a futile attempt to hold onto something, anything to keep him grounded. Clothes were thrown on the floor and the front seat, shoes abandoned underneath the car seat, a brand new bottle of lube lay open on the floor where Ludwig had dropped it. The sound of skin slapping against skin could be heard at a steady, fast-paced rhythm.
The car smelled of a sharp aroma that could only be defined as sex, anyone who tried to look into the parked vehicle would only see fogged windows and unclear silhouettes of two men pressed together, sliding against one another perfectly. Feliciano moaned and whimpered as he was thrust into again, feeling hands slide up and along his nearly feminine body, playing with his chest and teasing his curl as he was emptied and then filled over and over again. Their bodies were slick with sweat, two used condoms already lay abandoned on the floorboard of the car, this being their third round in that hour.
After they'd left the restaurant earlier that evening, of course they'd both been thinking about what a lovely night they'd be able to spend together… But at a red-light ten minutes away from their shared condo, both of them had accepted the fact they couldn't keep their hands off each other any longer. So Ludwig had pulled into a parking deck that belonged to an abandoned factory, and then proceeded to practically rip the Italian's clothes off and push him into the backseat.
Now, the both of them were reaching their climaxes. Ludwig thrusts his hips forward, moaning deeply at the tight heaven that welcomed him. Without hesitating he pulled out, then slammed back in quickly. Feliciano was a melted puddle of pleasured goo at this point, whines and pleads to move quicker, rougher sounded in a shrill voice. No one else could please him like Ludwig did, the German had the advantage of sheer size, he never failed to fill the Italian up to the brim.
Feliciano's nails dug into the tan skin of Ludwig's back, hands clawing down his shoulder blades as he arched off the seats of the car, tears pricking the corner of his eyes in pure ecstasy, his legs wrapped tightly around the German's hips.
"Lu-Ludwig~! Oh, Luddy…!" He cried out, gripping onto the other tightly as he felt the familiar sense of a coiling heat in his stomach. A calloused yet gentle hand was quickly pumping off the Italian in time with the thrusting, and with one final deep thrust that perfectly nailed his prostate, Feliciano came for the third time that night. Sticky white liquid covered the German's hand and both of their stomachs, his vision blurring as Feli crashed their mouthes together, lips already parted by the time Ludwig had the sense to shove his tongue into his lovers mouth.
"G-gott… Ich liebe d-dich…" Ludwig groaned as he came, thrusting up into the delicious heat one more time, skin slapping against skin as his cum filled up the Italian.
Ragged panting bounced off the walls of the car as their bodies slid against each other, coming to a slow halt. The soft skin of their stomachs stuck together, Ludwig's usually-slicked back hair was a tousled mess from the Italian's hands running through it, the fine locks sticking to his forehead.
Ludwig slid his hand along the Italian's side slowly, up his arm and to his hand, holding it gingerly. His thumb ran over the golden ring that seemed to fit perfectly over Feliciano's nimble, artistic fingers. Hazy sapphire eyes were locked onto gorgeous caramel, loving words begin expressed through a simple gaze, words so caring and loving that they would be impossible to voice aloud.
So the next time you wonder what kind of person you should date, the answer should be neither rich, nor poor. Rich people will not want their 'pride and joy' to have semen all over it.. And let's face it, poorer people don't want you inhaling the scent of hamburgers and bad air fresheners as they make love to you. Date a mechanic. Not only will they be able to fix your car, and love you like there's no tomorrow, but their car says it all:
As neat and tidy as they may be, they'll get down and dirty for the person they love.
Author's Note: ….. I've never written GerIta before in a fanfic, and I've only RP'ed it once or twice in my life, so I do apologize if it sucked terribly… Anyways, this is for one of my best friends in the whole wide worlddddddd, so I hope everyone enjoyed it! Especially my buddy! Let me know if you loved it, hated it, whatever~!