Feliciano mumbles something softly, incoherently, leaning down to sink his teeth into the tendons of Ludwig's neck, and Ludwig lets out a noise completely beyond his control.
Most things are, right now - his hands are tied very securely to the headboard, and his legs are bound ankle to thigh and fuck where did Feliciano even find ribbons this strong Ludwig is completely sure he'll have chafe marks afterwards, and he's blindfolded and the vibrator -
- God, the vibrator -
- Ludwig can't really remember how long he's been here, which should be worrying because he doesn't lose track of time but Feliciano licks at his neck and turns the vibrator up another setting and he really wishes he had the gag back but Feliciano took it out sometime after the - must have been second orgasm, because I like hearing you, Ludwig! and he doesn't know where it went so he can't stop the drawn-out moan from his mouth (really, though, he hasn't been able to for a while, he's been fucked and played with and pushed past that) or the shivering buck of his hips.
Feliciano smiles warmly against the join of his neck and shoulder and drops a little kiss there. His hand trails down, across Ludwig's pectorals and the curve of his ribcage and flat of his tensed abdomen (and through the come there - there's a lot of it, he doesn't know how many times he's come but he knows Feliciano is determined to get as much out of him as he can and he aches, but he wants and aches) and further to wrap around Ludwig's cock. There's a movement, a shifting of weight on the bed, and Feliciano moves away (Ludwig does not - will not admit he groans at the loss of the warm body against him) and settles - between Ludwig's legs, there's a warm hand on his knee that slides down his twitching thigh and across the curve of his ass to adjust the vibrator's angle, press against his perineum.
"Mngh!"
Feliciano drags his thumb across the sensitive skin again. Ludwig can't tell, but he imagines Feliciano is smiling, and then there's - there's lips, against his cock, there's Feliciano's lips and he is smiling the complete -
- Then those lips are around Ludwig's cock and he forgets exactly how thinking works for a while.
Feliciano's mouth is so warm and wet, lips tight around his cock and tongue moving almost lazily, like he's got all day, which he has, that Ludwig can't stop his next moan either. It comes out almost soundlessly, though, a long gasping exhale barely colored with sound when Feliciano sucks and Ludwig's voice cracks. His fingers curl uselessly into fists and he tugs weakly at the ribbons around his wrists (Feliciano has learned his knots, Ludwig will give him that, and he's ludicrously almost proud), wishing his hands were free so he could - he's not sure. Pull at Feliciano's hair, maybe, or just tangle his fingers in the curls and feel and Feliciano sucks again, harder, head moving in almost a steady rhythm. The vibrator still buzzes inside him, steady unending pressure that leaves his breath perpetually short and shallow and drives his hips to minute twitches.
One of Feliciano's hands holds Ludwig's hips down, and the other is just…doodling along the inside of his thigh right next to the edge of one of the ribbons. It slides up and tickles the edge of his heel, barely, earning a half-hearted kick that would've been so much more effective if Ludwig could move his legs. His eyes are squeezed shut behind the blindfold and his teeth sink into his lower lip, and Feliciano's hand travels lower now, just grazing his skin and then oh God oh God Feliciano's mouth is all the way down and Ludwig can feel his throat work around the tip of his cock, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph and it's so tight and hot, sweet-slick pressure and he tightens all over.
Feliciano's mouth is gone for a second, and there's a sort of half-laughing gasp followed by "You're making a really cute face!" Ludwig would definitely muster up some kind of cutting retort that would inevitably end up with him thinking but that's you, you make the cute faces, but words and coherency are all beyond him right now and farther still when there's a tongue again, licking up his cock so, so slowly and then Feliciano's lips just around the head and Feliciano - Feliciano's got hold of the vibrator and he pushes it in and out in movements that are just a hair short of really getting right where Ludwig needs them and he did not whine, that noise out of his traitor mouth was not a whine but there it is again and louder when the vibrator presses right up against his prostate at the same time Feliciano's tongue does something intensely clever and the little warning ah, ah, ahs falling out of his mouth -
- run together into one long ohhh and his pelvis twitches up and towards the pressure just this side of painful and Feliciano keeps sucking all through it, holding the vibrator there, right there and holds it there as the white stops bursting behind Ludwig's eyelids, as he shudders back onto the bed, as it edges through pleasure and into too much.
"I - ngh - Feli -", and mercifully Feliciano pulls it back a little, turns down the setting a couple notches (but not off). Ludwig wishes, through the haze and the weak limbs, that the blindfold were off and he could see Feliciano, see his soft eyes and softer smile, make sure that he's doing okay but he knows, because they agreed, that it's not coming off until he can't take anymore.
And he didn't think that he could, he's sore and everything in his mind is foggy and too-warm but apparently he can because Feliciano waits out the recovery with soft, nipping bites and kisses to the insides of Ludwig's thighs and to his stomach and sternum and throat and then takes out the vibrator and fucks him, fucks his shaking body with long, slow, sweet movements and Feliciano's really got better at endurance or Ludwig's just that sensitive right now because he comes not five minutes into it and Feliciano coaxes him through it, c'mon, Ludwig, just a couple more for me, you can do it and God help him he does before Feliciano's done, again, a trembling weak orgasm that leaves him breathless-boneless and covered in sweat and Feliciano follows him, beautiful, beautiful, love you so much into the damp hollow of his collarbone.
He can't, he can't, he knows he can't do another one but after Feliciano catches his breath he pulls back again from where he was, sweat-damp against Ludwig's side, and presses fingers into him, and Ludwig can't summon up the energy to do more than make a tiny squirming movement - towards or away, he can't tell which.
Feliciano runs his long painter's fingers along Ludwig's cock and he doesn't care at this point that he whines through his teeth, legs shaking and arms limp. The fingers inside of him move in tiny little circles, in and out, and then up against his prostate and the dull jolt of arousal that follows makes him hiss softly, it's too much but the kind of too-much that he thinks about privately, that makes him ask Feliciano if they could, maybe, try this.
Feliciano must be smiling again, and he strokes Ludwig's perineum with the thumb of the hand whose fingers are currently rubbing at his prostate and the twin pressures pull a minute noise out of his mouth, past his bitten lips. And the hands continue, gentle light touches mixing with quick bites at his thighs and the v-line of his hips (or what's accessible of it with his knees drawn up and apart to his chest) and he's mouthing oh God oh Feli please, please, please and he doesn't know if it's please, too much or please, yes, more and Feliciano's fingers twist and everything is hot-white and Ludwig tenses all over and shakes and comes apart once more.
The hands withdraw, and so does the heat.
His face feels damp.
There's a pause, several seconds hanging in the thick air, before nimble fingers - Feliciano's fingers - take the blindfold off and the light, though it isn't all that bright, prickles at Ludwig's eyes. He keeps them open, though, as much as he can, and fixed on Feliciano, reminding himself he's here, that happened, he's here.
Feliciano is flushed, and his hair clumped with sweat and sticking out in all directions, and he smiles and leans down to give Ludwig a lingering kiss on the cheek before reaching up to untie his hands, and Ludwig drifts and only half-hears Feliciano's "yikes, these knots are really hard" and when he finally figures them out, and the ones on Ludwig's legs as well, then there's just Feliciano rubbing the pins and needles out of his limbs and holding his sticky, still-shaky body and petting his hair and murmuring you did so well, you're so good, turtledove I'm so proud and Ludwig doesn't have even one iota of the energy he'd need to nudge Feliciano's narrow shoulder and mumble don't call me turtledove and not mean it anyway.
Eventually, he does have just enough to wrap his arms around Feliciano.
"Let's -" Feliciano kisses his forehead, and when he pulls away Ludwig can see that he's still high, still floating in that space he knows himself, and sometime soon he'll have to hold Feliciano while he falls, "let's get you cleaned up, okay, 'Dovico?" Ludwig mutters his assent, voice still hoarse, and Feliciano rolls away to stagger off the bed and go look for the bag with the wipes.
He comes back and cleans Ludwig off, carefully, still whispering to him how good he is and Ludwig would go red if he wasn't already flushed, and then maneuvers him into sitting against the headboard and nudges the glass of cold orange juice to his lips and coaxes him into eating a couple slices of apple and Ludwig just floats, exhausted and relaxed and sore and unspeakably content.
(After Feliciano comes down, shivering and clinging to Ludwig and whispering please please please I didn't hurt you did I please, Ludwig steers them into the bathroom and neither of them even really have the energy to stand so they sit under the spray of the shower and Ludwig works conditioner into Feliciano's hair and, voice only half-sticking in his throat, calls him angel.)