Warnings: PLEASE READ (Don't like, don't read): Language, underage alcohol use, graphic sexual content: Hetero (Girl x Boy) and Yaoi (Boy x Boy), coercive situations

Disclaimer: Still don't own Hetalia.

...

Chapter 16

Ludwig turned and stumbled through the door, shutting it hastily behind him. It was a minute relief, to know he was blocked from Gilbert's view. To know there was some barrier, however thin, between him and his brother's shocked and wounded gaze.

He didn't stop, however, not even for a second. A door was just a door, and it wasn't even locked. He had to get away. Far away. As quickly as possible.

Down the hallway. Down the stairs, two at a time. Not a glance spared for Vash, looking quizzically around the corner from the kitchen. Dash out the door, slam shut, bound down the porch steps.

With every step Ludwig's legs threatened to give. There was something huge, something terrible, pressing at his brain, but he couldn't let it in. He had to keep running. Get away. Get far away. Make it to the corner. Then up the next block, and the next. Reach the library on the edge of campus. Just get to Campus Walk. Now to his dorm. Almost there. In the door. Up the stairs, two at a time. Finally, the door to his suite.

Ludwig fumbled with his ID as he pulled it from his pocket, sliding it through the lock unsuccessfully. It took him three tries till the light turned green and he turned the handle, rushed into the small entryway. Then two more tries to swipe into his own room.

A quick glance around. No Feliciano. Three steps to the center of the room. Stop.

The door clicked shut behind him. He stood, panting hard. He hadn't bothered to turn the light on, but sun was glaring through the broad window that looked out over the main quad. He stumbled to the blinds and pulled the string, letting them fall shut with a harsh clatter. Darkness.

And still he stood, blinking, breathing. Shaking slightly, too, he realized. He lifted his hands and held them in front of his face, observing their trembling, dull grey forms in the dim room.

And then, because he didn't have anything else to do, he walked to his bed, calmly removed his shoes, and lay down, facing the wall.

There was nowhere more to go, nowhere to run. He was stuck here. Stuck in this room, stuck at this school, this school his brother had so eagerly encouraged him to attend. So they could, spend more time together. Be closer again.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Slowly, Ludwig pulled a pillow towards him and curled himself around it, hiding his face in the soft, cool fabric.

Now he was sure he had lost Gilbert for good.

…

He didn't know how long he lay there. He closed his eyes but couldn't sleep. Images of Gilbert filled his mind. Gilbert, staring at him in confusion and hurt, in fear. Slapping his hands away. Going rigid under his touch. Pushing him off in anger.

Oh god oh god oh god. Oh, oh god.

A large patch of the pillow was wet with his tears. He pulled it to himself tighter anyway, the way one presses down on a cut or an ache because you think the pressure will make it hurt less somehow, and you're not sure if it really helps but you do it anyway. He pressed that pillow into himself as hard as he could.

He had ruined it. Everything. He had ruined everything. The best thing in his life. He had tainted it, twisted it, befouled it, ruined it, absolutely and utterly. And he could never get it back. With a keen pang of distress, Ludwig reminded himself that he only got one life, one chance. And just like that, he had turned his from fairly happy and promising to something perverted and sad and sick. And for what?

The glue that held everything together, made all the pieces fit and make sense, was coming undone. His brother, the constant in his life. The one who was always there, no matter what Ludwig did or what trouble Gilbert got himself into. And it was all his fault.

He bit the pillow until his jaw hurt to keep himself from sobbing.

The door opened. He knew that would be Feliciano. He quickly forced his body to relax as much as possible and pretended to be asleep.

Feliciano was humming a jaunty little tune as he entered the room, but quickly made a soft "Oh!" sound when he noticed Ludwig on his bed. He stopped humming and made his way over to his desk, probably trying very hard not to make any noise as he put down his bag and took off his shoes, but managing to knock over his garbage can with a loud thud nonetheless. A small "Oopsies" followed, until finally Feliciano plopped into his chair and switched on his lamp.

Ludwig stared morosely at the wall in front of him. He didn't particularly feel like facing his roommate at the moment, so he would have to continue pretending to sleep. Which wasn't too difficult, actually. He was exhausted. He didn't have the strength to cry any more, to feel pain. Instead he felt numb. Empty. It was easier that way.

It was several minutes later that a knock came at the outer door.

At first Ludwig thought nothing of it as Feliciano shuffled off to answer it. But then, suddenly, his body stretched into a tight cord of panic as he practically flung himself from the bed and tugged a very surprised Feliciano back from their doorway.

Kiku had emerged from his room to answer the outer door as well, but looked at his suitemates curiously when he noticed Ludwig holding Feliciano back.

"Hm? Ludw—"

"Shh!" Ludwig hissed softly, holding a finger to his lips. He tiptoed past a bewildered Feliciano to whisper urgently in Kiku's ear. "Uh, just, if it's my brother, could you say… I'm not in."

Kiku shot him a questioning glance.

"Please," Ludwig mouthed, fixing him with a beseeching stare.

Kiku nodded curtly and went to the door. Ludwig retreated quickly to his own room, closing himself and Feliciano inside, though he kept an ear at the door to listen.

"Ludwig, what—" Feliciano started, but Ludwig shot him a warning glance that even the oblivious boy understood meant "shut up."

Sure enough, as soon as the outer door opened Ludwig could hear Kiku's muffled voice speaking his brother's name.

And then, that familiar rasp: "Is my brother in?"

Feliciano glanced at Ludwig expectantly, but Ludwig only backed away, staring at the door.

Please don't tell him, don't tell him I'm in, don't don't don't…

A moment later he heard the door click shut. His head was pounding. His throat was tight.

Then, a knock on their room door. Ludwig held his breath.

"Ludwig?" It was Kiku. Feliciano answered the door immediately.

Kiku gave Ludwig a look that was hard to read. Ludwig tried to look calm.

"That was your brother. He says he needs to talk to you. He wants you to call him."

Ludwig didn't respond. His lips felt glued shut. Kiku just looked at him, unblinking, a moment longer, then turned and retreated back into his room.

Feliciano closed the door behind him and turned warily to his roommate. "Luddy…? What's going on?"

Ludwig unglued his lips with some effort and finally found his voice. "N-nothing. Just… don't want to talk to him. Had a… little disagreement." He turned away quickly but realized he didn't have anywhere to go. To his desk? He didn't feel like sitting. He certainly couldn't do work. To his bed? Feliciano might find it odd for him to return to napping. He didn't usually nap.

As he was standing in indecision his friend came up behind him. "Ah… Lud? Anything you want to… talk about?" He sounded nervous.

"No. I'm tired." Ludwig decided on bed. Hell, Feliciano was already suspicious. Maybe, if he just pulled the covers over his head he could forget about it all, just for a moment.

But before he could hike his sheets up high enough, his phone started to ring. He knew who it would be. He couldn't pick up.

"Uh, Lud, you gonna get that?" enquired Feliciano, looking at him concernedly.

Ludwig glanced at the phone buzzing against the wood of his desk. Sure enough, Gilbert was emblazoned in big glowing digital letters on the screen. He reached out and picked it up, almost gingerly, weighing the device in his hand.

What if he did pick it up? What if he did talk to his brother? What if Gilbert had forgiven him and was just there to comfort him?

A knot tightened in his chest and something cold settled in his stomach. He couldn't face his brother. Not now, after… everything he had done, said, that morning. The holding, the kiss, the crying, the yelling, the shame. He felt sick.

The call ended, and the phone still sat in his hand. The icons for "missed call" and "new voicemail" popped up, but Ludwig couldn't listen to Gilbert's voice, even in recording. He quickly held down the power button, and with some measure of satisfaction watched the screen go black.

He shuffled under his covers, face to the wall. But Feliciano spoke again. "Um, Luddy, y'know Herk and Kiku were going to go out tonight, I was thinking of joining—but you should come too! It would be so much fun! Maybe… take your mind off, things? We're all stressed right now!" His high voice was tentative, trying to sound casual.

Ludwig took a moment to process the suggestion as he stared at the wall. "Sure," he grunted, before rolling over to bury his face in his pillows.

…

Five hours later Ludwig was buying himself and his friends a second round of shots in the seedy dive Herakles had discovered. They were surprised, but grateful for Ludwig's generosity, laughing together as Ludwig leaned over the grimy counter and waved down the bartender. He felt slightly awkward though, not entirely sure of bar protocol. He'd never been in such an establishment before. But, as Herakles had found out, this particular dump didn't card most of the time.

Ludwig had stayed in bed until it was finally time to throw on something fresh for the evening, insisting to Feliciano that he wasn't hungry, though his roommate had offered him leftover pasta from their fridge repeatedly. The boy, true to his roots, always seemed to have some on hand.

Ludwig barely batted an eye when the bartender asked him to shell out another twenty. Usually he kept a tight hold of his wallet, but tonight Ludwig didn't care. He wanted to get wasted, and he couldn't be bothered to worry about what would be left in his wallet come morning.

A little voice in the back of his head was scolding him as he passed the vile, burning liquid around to his friends and raised his own tiny glass to his lips. Cliché. Not classy. Typical college student stupidity. Answering emotional distress with the bottle. Pathetic. You'll regret it.

Shut up, he growled back silently at the voice, and downed the contents of his glass in one gulp. He grimaced. It was like swallowing fire. Fire and window cleaner.

"Another," he said, bringing the shot glass down hard on the wooden counter.

Herakles raised an eyebrow. "Slow down a little, Ludwig. No rush."

"I'm fine! I want another! Who's joining me?"

"This stuff tastes terrible," whined Feliciano.

"I agree with Feliciano. Count me out." Kiku pulled a face.

Herakles blinked at him. "You already bought me two drinks. I don't want to be more in debt to you."

"It's not a debt, you're my friend."

"I think I'll wait, anyway."

Ludwig sighed. "Well, guess I'll be doing my shot alone then."

His friends watched warily as he flagged down the bartender a third time. The small glass was refilled, five singles slid over the sticky countertop, and Ludwig lifted the shot to his lips.

Just then a familiarly accented voice spoke. "It's bad luck to do a shot alone, you know."

He turned, surprised, and looked down to see Angie's big brown eyes twinkling back at him. She smiled broadly, white teeth gleaming against the darkness of her skin even in the dim bar lighting.

She turned to the bartender. "Make that two, please. On me."

Ludwig blinked. "Oh, no, you don't have to—"

Angie laughed a high, musical laugh that reminded Ludwig of something he couldn't quite place. "Really, it's fine. You can buy me next round, how about that?"

His face was hot, and he was sure it wasn't from the alcohol just yet. "Uh… alright."

The bartender passed them their glasses and Angie lifted hers. "To never drinking alone."

Ludwig raised his glass in response and they threw back their heads to down the shots. Angie came up coughing. "God, what is this stuff?"

Ludwig shrugged sheepishly. Angie laughed again—maybe a bubbling stream?—and the corner of Ludwig's mouth twisted up in what he was sure must have been a pretty stupid smile. Suddenly he had a greater desire than usual to not look stupid, though. In fact, he wanted to look cool. He wanted to hear that laugh again, but not if she was laughing at him. Maybe he could think of something funny to say?

"Uh… that Kirkland's a real character, huh?" Immediately Ludwig winced at himself. Bringing up class in a bar? Nothing said stiff-laced loser so well as that.

But a twinkle came into Angie's eye as she tilted her head in consideration. "Hmm, he's got some pretty cute mannerisms, doesn't he?"

Cute? Did she just call Professor Kirkland cute? "Uh, I mean, I guess…" Shit, no, now she'll think I think he's cute!

She giggled. Maybe it was mermaids—that was it, her laugh reminded Ludwig of the mermaids from some fantasy movie he had seen… What was the name? But he couldn't recall, and Angie was speaking again. "Well, he is quite a looker. Nice eye candy when the lectures get dull, at least."

"Er—oh. Really?"

"Oh gosh, I'm pretty sure any girl in the class would tap that."

Ludwig blinked. Well, that wasn't what he was expecting. Suddenly he remembered a certain conversation he'd had with Mathias. "Oh, well, class is usually pretty interesting though. At least, Mathias certainly always has something to add." He eyed her for her reaction.

Angie rolled her eyes. "Oh, you mean Mr. 'I know everything about anything ever and I'm the teacher's favorite?'"

So, her opinion of Mathias wasn't too high. Something strange stirred in Ludwig's stomach at that knowledge. He supposed he ought to look out for his friend's interests—after all, he wasn't interested in Angie for himself, right?—but instead he felt oddly, pleased.

"Yeah, yeah I know what you mean." He nodded quickly.

"It's so frustrating having someone like that in class, isn't it? I mean, he needs to have an opinion on every single thing."

Ludwig nodded again. "Yeah, yeah definitely."

"Hey, how about that drink?" inquired Angie with a smirk that Ludwig found incredibly—interesting.

"Oh, right! What are you having?"

"How about… an Orgasm?"

Ludwig blinked. "Uh—what?"

Angie laughed. Yup, definitely the mermaids. Why couldn't he get that image out of his head? "You know, the drink! It's called an Orgasm!"

Ludwig tried to wipe the scandalized look off his face and play it cool. "Oh, right, right, of course."

"You know, you should try one. Orgasms are pretty good."

Ludwig glanced at her. Did she mean something by that?

"…Or maybe you'd prefer a Blow Job?"

Okay, she definitely meant something by that. "Uh… what's—what's that? I mean, the drink, not—I mean, I know what a—or, uh, what's, in that?" He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and was thankful for the dim lighting.

"You know, I'm not sure. But I do enjoy them." The suggestiveness was too apparent to ignore, and after a second of eye contact they both started to laugh—Angie as if she'd heard a good joke, Ludwig rather more nervously.

Angie got her laughter under control enough to ask, "So, you going to order them?" with a mischievous smile.

"Uh—" Ludwig looked at her a moment with big, surprised eyes.

Angie burst out laughing again. "Oh man, you're cute." She dropped it so casually and quickly Ludwig wasn't completely sure he'd heard it and understood correctly. "That's okay, I kind of doubt a place like this would have those drinks—they're pretty specialty. Maybe they have Sex On A Beach though?"

"Ah—sure, sure!" After a minute of trying to hail down the hassled-looking bartender he succeeded and placed the order.

Cute. Cute? Like little puppy cute, or like Kirkland cute? All the girls in the class would tap that… Does that mean… she'd tap me?

He glanced at her sideways. She looked rosy and happy as she watched their drinks being made. Do I think she's cute? Mathias does. I guess she is. I mean, she's pretty. But do I find her attractive? Not like Gilbert…

Ludwig closed his eyes. No, no, no. You promised yourself you wouldn't think about that. Not tonight. He opened them to stare blankly at the corny movie playing on the bar TV.

Two glasses were shoved in front of him. "Twelve," grunted the bartender.

Ludwig paid up and handed a glass to Angie.

"Cheers!" she said with that coy smirk that tugged a little at Ludwig's gut.

They sipped at their drinks. The alcohol was low grade, but it was so sweet it went down easily anyway. They traded comments about some of their other classmates, and before Ludwig knew it his straw was making the slurping sound that signaled the end of the drink.

"Wow, you really downed that," observed Angie, quickly finishing the last third of her own glass. "I think I'm gonna go for a smoke. Wanna join?"

Ludwig agreed without considering the fact that he didn't smoke. They grabbed their jackets and pushed their way through the narrow, congested space to the front door and stepped out into the brisk night air.

"Shit, it's getting cold! This is why I hate being a smoker," grumbled Angie as she stumbled to a spot next to the front window. She fumbled with her pack of cigarettes before pulling two out. "Shit, that drink was kinda strong, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, pretty strong," agreed Ludwig. His head was feeling quite fuzzy.

Angie handed him a cigarette. "Here. Hope I'm not feeding a habit or something." She dug a lighter from her purse.

"Uh, I don't usually smoke actually."

Angie peered at him. "Oh, well, don't start. It's terrible, really. I hate it. I mean, I love it, but I hate it. I should really quit…" After a few tries she managed to light her cigarette. "But… I'm going to be a hepo—hahaha, oh my God, a hypocrite—see, I can still talk!—and light this for you."

Ludwig held the cigarette between his lips and breathed in as Angie held the lit end of her cigarette against his. She stood rather close as she did this, and he registered for the first time that she was wearing a fruity perfume. Maybe peach…? Or something more tropical…

She stood back as Ludwig's cigarette flared up. He took a drag, then tried to let it out in a controlled manner, but ended up coughing. Angie laughed and Ludwig was strongly reminded of the last time he'd tried smoking, sitting with his brother on Gilbert's bed at home. He pushed the thought away and focused on Angie's laughter, on the way her eyes crinkled up when she smiled, on how plump and soft her lips looked. They'd probably feel very nice to kiss, he thought suddenly.

"That's okay, you'll get used to it."

He smiled lightly, eyes watering, and attempted a smaller drag. This time he managed to let out only a very small huff—barely a cough—at the end of his exhale.

Angie took a long, thirsty pull from her cigarette and let the smoke curl out of her slightly open mouth. Again, Ludwig was reminded of another, very different face that looked even more alluring with those grey wisps swirling around it. Like a white dragon, Ludwig recalled.

Angie must have noticed the vaguely troubled concentration on his face because next she asked, "What's on your mind?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. Just a, stressful day." He wasn't sure why he didn't just deny it altogether.

"Mm," she hummed sympathetically. "Yeah, my workload is getting pretty crazy. Nice to unwind like this sometimes."

"Yeah. Plus I… kinda got into an argument with my brother. Eh, but, it was stupid." Ludwig knew he couldn't say much, but he still felt a surprising need to talk about it. Somehow it felt better than just pushing every thought of Gilbert from his mind.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where's your brother?"

"Umm, don't know… I probably should have gone and talked to him, but…" Ludwig trailed off guiltily and took another puff as an excuse not to finish his sentence.

Angie squinted in confusion, cigarette paused halfway to her mouth. "Oh, wait, so, your brother goes to school here?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, he's a senior."

"Oh! Well that must be nice. When you're not arguing, at least. I mean, I think it would be nice to have a sibling around. But, I'm an only child. Heh, maybe I just have a—what do they call it, like, a rosy view of it, or something. Do you guys get along usually?"

"Ah, yeah, I guess. We're pretty different, actually, but still, he's—he's a good brother. We… get along. Usually." But not anymore. Not ever again. Ludwig felt a lump rising in his throat and quickly tried to mask it with another puff from the cigarette. Maybe bringing Gilbert up wasn't a good idea.

"Hm. Well, I'm sorry you got into a disagreement. Think you'll talk to him soon? Maybe you can patch it up."

Ludwig kept his eyes down. "Yeah, maybe," he said without conviction. "I don't know. I don't—don't really want to talk about him actually."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, it's not your fault." Another drag of smoke filling his lungs. He realized he had put quite a damper on their conversation.

"So," Angie shrugged, "let's talk about something else."

"Um, okay, like…?"

"Uh… kittens. Kittens are great, right?"

Ludwig laughed in spite of himself, throwing her a dubious look. "Kittens? Really?"

The alcohol was beginning to take full effect now, and the cigarette was making him light-headed. Ludwig felt like he was floating and words were starting to fall out of his mouth.

They laughed some more and ran through a list of possible topics. Their cigarettes were stubs by the time they started debating whether movie or travel talk helped you get to know someone better.

"Damn, it's freezing out here, let's go in," suggested Angie, and Ludwig readily agreed. He followed her through the door with a few strides that may not have been in a completely straight line. His head felt like a balloon lifting the rest of his dead-weight body along.

They pushed through the crowd, but the people standing around the bar weren't budging. "Why don't you grab a couple drinks and meet me back there?" Angie called over the din, pointing to the back corner next to the bathrooms, where there was more room to stand.

"Okay." Ludwig turned to the bar, trying to find an opening to squeeze into to place his order. He suddenly realized that he had no idea where his suitemates were. He scanned the room for them without success, though he wasn't sure if that was only because he couldn't seem to register everything his eyes took in at the moment.

He stood uncertainly, waiting for an opening and hoping he didn't look as drunk as he felt. Finally he staggered forward and stuck his arm between a few people to lean on the bar. He raised a finger as the bartender passed. "'Scuse me—'scuse me!" But the bartender kept walking.

A minute later the bartender went by again and noticed Ludwig—or rather, didn't pretend not to notice him. He took another order first, then leaned towards Ludwig.

"Uh, two—Sex On A Beach," Ludwig stated as carefully and clearly as possible. The bartender nodded and Ludwig waited, twenty in hand, as the drinks were made. He put down the bill as the glasses were handed to him and started to turn away, when he heard "Sir, your change!" behind him. He turned back and picked his change up off the counter with a mumbled "Oh, thanks."

Finally he reached Angie at the back of the room, unsure of how much of their drinks he had spilled.

"Thanks!" beamed Angie. Ludwig smiled back.

"Prost!" he said, leaning down a bit. She was really much shorter than him.

She laughed a bit. "Isn't that German?"

He nodded. "I'm German," he said with a large smile. Suddenly that seemed a very cool fact to share.

"Oh neat!"

Ludwig saw her lips move as she said something else, but didn't catch it. "What?"

"I said, were you born there?"

"Oh, yeah! Yeah I moved here when I was really little."

Or at least that's what he thought he said. Maybe it hadn't come out right though, because Angie wrinkled her nose and called back, "What?"

"I was—yeah, I's born there, but I moved here when I's real—li'l."

"Oh, cool. Yeah, you don't have an accent. Not like me!"

"But I like yer accent!"

She laughed. "Thank you! Well, prost!"

Ludwig drank, long deep gulps of the sweet liquid. He was vaguely aware of discussing their homelands, or rather, stating how great Germany was several times, and nodding while not really hearing most of what Angie was telling him about Seychelles. He actually tried to listen, furrowing his eyebrows, but most words simply weren't penetrating.

And then their drinks were gone—glasses disappeared to who knows where—and he wasn't quite sure how it happened, but her hand was on his shoulder and his had settled on her hip. His head was leaning forward—partly because it was difficult to keep it upright—and she was looking up at him with hazy eyes.

"You're pretty cute," she said, the words reaching his ears as if through layers of gauze.

Her other hand came up to his neck and brought his head closer, till his lips were touching those perfect, round, soft so soft ones. And then there was the wetness and smoothness and heat of kissing, and he wasn't sure what his tongue was doing, wasn't sure what his whole body was doing, but there was warmth and softness under his hands, though with the frustration of cloth in the way.

He wasn't sure how long they stood like that, mouths glued together. One of her hands was on his face and neck, combing through his hair, while the other pressed against his stomach under his shirt, trailing slowly down towards the top of his pants. His hands found their way up her shirt, because hot smooth skin was so much better than cotton, and one hand was reaching for the roundness of her bra cup as the other rubbed at her supple ass through her jeans, oblivious of their surroundings.

Suddenly she pulled away, and Ludwig was left confused for a moment, hands awkwardly reaching for her body, not quite hearing her say "Wait a second—" and unaware of her reaching around him to grab a bathroom door handle. But then he was being ushered into a bathroom—it didn't occur to him to wonder if it was men's or women's—and Angie came in behind him, shutting and locking the door swiftly.

His hands found her again, mouth sloppily pressing into hers. His whole body was tingling and his skin felt busy, like it needed to be doing something, needed to make contact with something. But most importantly, his cock was straining against his jeans, and his stomach ached with want.

He pushed his hips against hers, hands kneading into her ass. Then suddenly the restraints on his erection lessened, and he realized she had undone his pants and pulled his boxers down. No sooner had he registered the cool air on his cock than a new warmth replaced it, soft and sweet and deliciously working against his member.

He wasn't sure when he stopped kissing her in favor of groaning his approval of her handiwork. When he opened his eyes he realized she had ducked down. One of his fists was clenched against the wall and the other was still holding some part of her body.

He looked down and was somewhat surprised to see Angie's head of glossy black hair bobbing forward and back as her mouth encompassed his cock in velvety warmth. He hadn't noticed when the transition from hand job to blow job had taken place.

The sensation was overwhelming. His skin was on fire, and he just wanted more, more, plunging into that hot wet hole of a mouth. His hand found the back of her silky head and pressed her on. But it was hard to move his hips like this, and Angie was controlling the pace, not him. It wasn't enough.

With a grunt he lifted her up a bit. She stood, his cock still in her hand. Ludwig reached for the front of her pants, fumbling with the button till it came undone. He got impatient with the zipper though and shoved his hand inside without bothering to pull it down.

Angie ground her hips forward against his hand. His fingers found the fleshy softness between her legs and slid further, until he felt her wetness around his fingertips. Angie made a needy whimper, and Ludwig slipped his middle finger inside of her. It was so hot, so smooth, and all he could think of was how amazing it would feel around his cock.

His mouth found hers again, hungrily sucking at tongue and lip, adding an occasional nip as he began to move his finger. It slid so easily inside of her, in and out; it would be so easy, so smooth, to thrust into her.

Her hand had momentarily stopped moving on his shaft, and Ludwig was growing impatient. He was so close to such immense pleasure, and his body needed it badly. He didn't want a hand, he wanted complete, encompassing heat and tightness to slam his hips into, and a body moving against his own, warm and responsive.

He pulled away from the kiss and removed his hand from Angie's pants, and taking hold of the sides of her jeans pulled them down hastily to reveal smooth thighs and a triangle of trimmed dark hairs, a few wet folds visible just beneath.

Taking hold of his erection he moved closer, lifting one of her legs a little to make room for him to enter her as she braced herself against the wall.

For a split second, he wondered why he was doing this. His mind was far from clear, but he knew the face in front of him, flushed with lust, was not the face he wanted to see, and yet here he was ready to fuck this girl he barely knew. For a split second, he wondered if it was alright to go about doing it this way—dick in hand, demanding without words that she spread her legs—even if she did seem willing.

But then he remembered that he wasn't any better than that. He remembered Gilbert looking into his eyes, and he remembered kissing him, the hands on his chest shoving him away, because he was the kind of guy who did those things without asking. So Angie would just shove him away too, if she wanted. What did it matter?

He hefted her leg a bit higher, though it was difficult with her pants only partly down, and inched in so his member slid against her slippery pussy.

"Wait—" Angie stumbled a bit in the awkward position, pulling her leg from his grasp.

He wondered vaguely if she was going to leave, tell him to get lost. But she simply put her leg down so she could pull her jeans and undies the rest of the way down. She fumbled a bit with one of her boots until she could get her foot out and pull the pants the rest of the way off her leg. Then she lifted her leg again, higher, and braced her foot against the sink.

Ludwig didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and guided the thick head into her tight slit. She gasped a little and her hands dug into his shoulders.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Ludwig realized this was his first time inside someone like this, his first time having actual sex. But it was only a passing thought, and he pushed the rest of his shaft into the welcoming, constricting heat.

Ludwig hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until he opened them again and found himself looking at the ceiling. Automatically his hips began to contract, pulling back only to push in again, into that sliding, delicious, tight tight hot hot passage. Her pussy seemed to cling to him, pulling him in again, again, deeper, harder, faster, pulling at his cock, pulling pulling so so tight everywhere—

"Ffffuck…" he groaned, oblivious to Angie's own gasps and moans of bliss. He kept thrusting, in and out, feeding the tightness in his stomach but not enough, not quite enough…

He pulled out quickly. "Turn around," he breathed urgently. She did, placing her hands against the wall as he pulled her hips towards him.

He entered her again, quickly, not waiting for her to adjust before he began snapping his hips forward.

"Oh! Oh! Ah!" Angie exclaimed softly, leaning further into the wall with the force of his thrusts.

Ludwig grunted with the effort of the pace but didn't let up. This was too good, this was too perfect, sinking his cock deep inside that blissful cushion of heat over and over. The cord deep in his gut tightened, thrills of pleasure singing from his cock to his navel like electricity.

His large hands gripped her round ass, rolling her pelvis against his own in repeated gyrations. Her hands were slipping down the wall inch by inch, giving him a better angle and a better view as he spread her ass cheeks to watch himself disappearing inside of her. It was almost surreal through the haze of alcohol and sex.

Then he caught sight of the puckered pink hole just above where his shaft was pushing in and out, and fierce desire gripped his stomach, even his chest. He withdrew, only to press his reddened head against the ring of muscle, but not in.

Angie made a surprised noise.

"Can I?" he asked, voice heavy and gravelly with lust.

"C-careful!" Her voice was tight with worry.

But it was enough for Ludwig at this point. He wanted to feel that tight ass gripping his cock. He pressed forward, but the head had barely started to penetrate when Angie let out a squeak of pain.

"Slowly!" she gasped.

Ludwig pulled back and stretched her cheeks open, pulling with his thumbs near the small entrance. Oh god it was probably so tight in there… He let a string of spit drop from his mouth to her ass, but his aim was off and he had to push it into the hole with his fingers. Angie squirmed a bit at the cool liquid slipping inside of her. Ludwig poked a finger in after it, feeling around her smooth walls. He wanted to feel them with his cock, though, so he brought his hand back to his mouth and spat into his palm, quickly using it to coat his shaft before pressing against the resistant entrance once more.

The head sunk in, slowly, despite Angie's small gasps and occasional clenching. It was gut-wrenchingly, exquisitely tight. Once his shaft started to disappear, though, Angie's exclamations grew louder.

"Oo oo ow stop!"

Ludwig stopped. He spit again, lubricating the area around his cock as Angie panted, her head resting against her hands on the wall, bent more than ninety degrees.

Ludwig pushed forward again, trying to go as slowly as possible, but the heat was so inviting, and he wanted that velvety tight space around the rest of his length. Angie whined, but didn't say anything more.

Then finally, he was fully inside. And it was incredible. Though in his impaired state Ludwig couldn't fully appreciate the fact that he had never felt anything like this before, his body responded fully well to the scorching heat that engulfed his cock.

His stomach swelled with ecstasy as he began to withdraw, barely registering Angie's small noises of discomfort.

He seemed to be experiencing some sort of tunnel vision. His eyes only focused on one thing at a time, and the periphery simply slipped away into obscurity. And at the moment, his focus was on the ass in front of him. He couldn't help but think, as he watched himself disappear inside, that this must be something like fucking a guy. Driving into the tightness between two exquisite buttocks. And if he imagined they were milky white rather than well-tanned…

An image popped into Ludwig's head as he ground his hips into Angie's ass: Gilbert, running down the path in the rain before him, naked as the day he was born, small, toned, but supple ass flexing with every step. The way it moved was so… appealing.

Ludwig let out a groan. The sensations in his cock, the feeling in his groin, were so sweet as he plowed in and out. And the thought of his brother's taught ass cheeks clinging around him, clenching, pulling wanting, so hot hot hot and his body under him pulsing, panting, groaning—

"Aaannhhh—mmff!" Ludwig dug his fingers into Angie's hips and slammed himself as deep inside as possible one last time, white-hot seed coursing through his cock to fill every crevice of her passage.

One moment, everything was tense, muscles eyes hands all squeezing, the world outside his orgasm non-existent. And then, with a shuddering sigh, everything relaxed. The bathroom came back into view, and his body seemed to melt as he stepped away from Angie's bent form, limp cock slipping out of her, limp arms and legs unsure of what to do with themselves. His head tingled.

Slowly, Angie stood. She took a paper towel calmly from the dispenser and reached it behind her to wipe between her soft round buttocks, catching a bit of Ludwig's cum that leaked out.

He stood awkwardly, pants still slung low around his thighs. "Uh, you, you ok?" he asked uncertainly.

Angie glanced up with a small smile. "Yeah, fine. Um, that was—well, yeah. Wow."

He gave a nervous laugh. "Wow. Yeah. Um." He had a feeling she was referring more to the circumstances of the sex than the sex itself.

With a long exhale of air, Angie pulled her pants back up. Ludwig followed suit. He stood aside, trying to seem casual as Angie put her boot back on and examined herself in the mirror.

"Wow, my hair's a mess. Sex hair, haha," she said lightly, attempting to pat it down.

"Oh, you look fine," Ludwig complimented hastily. Christ, how could he not be awkward? What was the protocol for after bar-hookup interaction?

"Oh, thanks," Angie said, slightly flustered. "So, um, I guess… maybe I should go out first? You know, so everyone doesn't see us leaving the bathroom together…"

Ludwig's head was still in a haze. He had forgotten about the world outside this small, dirty room. In fact, he hadn't even taken the time to properly look around the bathroom itself. "Oh, right, yeah. Okay."

"Um, okay… see you out there?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Angie slipped cautiously through the door.

Ludwig looked around the small room for a moment. Everything was still in the dream-like phase of drunkenness, where he seemed to miss little in-between moments, like how something would get from point A to point B.

He stumbled to the sink and leaned over it, intent on looking in the mirror. He had to try hard to focus on his face though; he couldn't seem to get the whole picture. He thought he looked strange. His skin didn't seem right.

So, I'm not a virgin any more, he realized suddenly.

He decided to wash his hands. He reached for the faucet handle determinedly, but the movement was almost violent and the water jetted out on the highest setting. He couldn't bother to change it, though, so he washed his hands sloppily, spilling a good deal of soap in the process.

After that he thought he'd waited long enough. He pulled the door open and walked out, forgetting to care if anyone noticed. But if anyone saw, he left them behind as he made his way to the front of the bar where Angie was waiting.

"Here, I grabbed your coat for you." She handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said taking it. He didn't remember having removed it.

He followed her back outside, but the cold didn't bother him as much as before.

Angie turned to him. "So, um, I have to get back to my dorm, but, uh…" she started hesitantly. "That was—fun. Uh, no regrets, right?" She laughed a little.

"Right! Yeah, no regrets," he agreed quickly, nodding. "Um, okay, well, see you in class…" he added lamely.

"Right, right. Yeah, see you."

"Uh, thanks. Or I mean, well, you know, it was, a good time… um…"

"Haha, yeah. Night, Ludwig." She smiled and turned to go.

"Uh, night! Angie…" He turned the other way.

When he had reached the corner he realized he should have gone the same direction as Angie to get back to his dorm. He thought for a moment about where he was and figured he could take a longer route to avoid awkwardly running back into her.

The walk back to campus went quickly. It was a blur, the storefronts and restaurants going by him as his legs loped forward of their own accord. He noted that he didn't feel especially different, being a not-virgin.

I fucked a girl. I fucked a girl in a bar bathroom. In her ass. That's how I lost it. But it was a girl, not a guy. That's good, right? Maybe I am straight, maybe I'm normal. Maybe I could be a player who gets all the girls and hooks up with a different one every weekend.

...But I was thinking of Gilbert. Anger boiled in his gut at the thought. Anger at himself. Fucking fuck fuck you idiot, you perv—

He saw he had reached the middle of campus, and suddenly he didn't feel like going back to his dorm. Matt's probably there. And Gilbert will be there too, fucking his brains out instead of mine. C'mon, I'm not a virgin anymore! You wouldn't be taking my innocence, Gil. Fuck you!

"Fuck!" he yelled in frustration, trying to kick a small pebble on the sidewalk but missing by a mile.

He stared at the ground, panting. Suddenly acute pain gripped his core, and he doubled over with a sob, holding himself.

Gilbert hated him. Gilbert never wanted to see his face again. Ludwig would probably never speak to his brother again.

He found himself sitting on the ground, head in his hands, trying to hold in the tears and the pain, trying to squeeze it back, deep inside of him where he could keep it and pretend it never existed.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, or how many people might have walked by or seen him. But then a pair of feet came into view and stopped directly in front of him.

"Who is it?" The question sounded smug but tired, world-weary. The voice, though, made every muscle in Ludwig's body tense.

He looked up hesitantly at the laconic face looming over him. "What are you doing here?" he challenged. He hoped he didn't sound too drunk.

Francis rolled his eyes. "What kind of answer is that? I asked you, who are you crying over?"

"I'm not crying," Ludwig answered tersely.

"Oh really." Francis leaned close as if to inspect him, and Ludwig pulled back. "Looks like you are." Francis stood upright again. "Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Hm. Girl? Guy?"

"Fuck off."

"Ah. Guy, then."

Ludwig remained silent.

After a moment Francis spoke again. "Looks like you need a hand." He offered one.

Ludwig looked away.

"Oh, come now, don't be like that. Just trying to be friendly. Maybe I could help you get your mind off this mystery man."

Ludwig hesitated. A strange sensation was constricting his chest, making his gut tingle. He couldn't decipher whether it was a good tingle or bad tingle, though, more akin to the swooping in his stomach when he saw a hot erotic picture or to the kind he got at viewing a gruesome injury.

He looked at the proffered hand. And then, simply because it was there and it was something to do other than sit there on the ground longer, he took it.

Francis hauled him to his feet and he staggered to regain his balance. Francis patted his shoulder heartily. "Good man. Why don't you come over to my place?" Francis tossed his hair slightly, keeping his hand firmly on Ludwig's shoulder, almost as if he was ready to grasp his neck.

Ludwig processed the suggestion. Come over. Come over… Why shouldn't I? He felt empty. Gilbert won't have me. I'm no better than that anyway—just sleeping around. So what if I'm his slut? It really doesn't matter, does it.

So he agreed. Because that's what sluts do.

Francis smirked. "Perfect."

He turned, expecting Ludwig to follow. Ludwig thought that was slightly arrogant, assuming he would just trot behind like a dog—but Ludwig did it. Because he didn't deserve better.

Ludwig was still slightly drunker than he had thought. He didn't really notice where they were walking, just keeping close behind Francis and wondering vaguely why he didn't just turn around and leave. But it was easier to follow.

And then, they were at the door to one of the upperclassmen dorms he had never been inside of. Francis swiped them in and took him down a hallway to a courtyard area with multiple rooms facing onto it. He unlocked one of these doors and let Ludwig inside.

"Up the stairs," he said, and Ludwig noticed the staircase to his right. He went up, not knowing exactly how his feet managed the steps, and came out into a nice seating area next to a kitchen.

"That's Toni's room there," said Francis, pointing. "I'm over here." He led him into a spacious single on the left.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he offered graciously.

Ludwig shifted nervously. What was he supposed to do? This man, who had done things to him he'd prefer to forget, was acting as if everything were normal, as if it had never happened. Perhaps that's what he ought to do too, then: act as if it had never happened. That was what he wanted, wasn't it?

He decided on sitting in a chair, very deliberately so as not to appear too drunk.

"Need anything? A drink?" Francis asked, still standing.

"Ah, no, thanks."

"Alright then." Francis settled on the bed. He looked at Ludwig. Ludwig tried to look everywhere but at him.

"Why did you come with me?" he asked, his subtly accented voice smooth as silk.

Ludwig looked down. He had no answer. In fact, he wondered the same thing.

Finally, he shrugged.

Francis chuckled, making Ludwig look up. "I know why. It's because you're drawn to me. Admit it, you always have been."

Ludwig felt much too warm. He squirmed under the other man's piercing gaze.

"You wanted it, that night. Don't lie to yourself, Ludwig. It's not a crime to want another man. Stop feeling so guilty about it."

Something clenched in Ludwig's gut. Was that true? Was he simply trying to turn himself into a victim, to mask what had really happened? His head reeled in confusion.

"Why are you sitting all the way over there? Come a little closer."

Ludwig's breathing was shallow. He looked at Francis, sitting on the side of his bed propped up casually with his hands, alluring smile on his face.

Ludwig got unsteadily to his feet. He took the few steps needed to cross the room and stood uncertainly before the seated man.

Francis looked up at him through his long lashes. "Closer," he murmered.

Ludwig swayed dangerously. The room seemed to spin as he stepped towards Francis, and his stomach flipped at their uncomfortable proximity.

Francis hooked his fingers through the belt loops of Ludwig's jeans and pulled his hips forward. His face hovered near his groin.

"Is this what you want?" he breathed heavily. His nose grazed Ludwig's crotch and a thrill shot through Ludwig's stomach, more from fear than want. His thighs and chest ached. His body wanted to recoil from Francis' touch, and yet he derived some inexplicable, throat-clenching, terrifying, exhilarating adrenaline rush from forcing himself to remain in contact. It was horrifying, but he couldn't pull away.

"Hmm? Or maybe…" Francis tugged on Ludwig's arm and he toppled easily, hitting the floor hard with his knees. He realized with a jolt that Francis' warm thighs were on either side of him, seeming to trap him in. Tingles surged over his scalp and down to his shoulders.

Francis' hand settled on the back of Ludwig's head, threading through his hair and pulling him forward. He settled back on his other arm and looked down expectantly at the paralyzed boy between his legs.

He raised his eyebrows. "You know what to do," he said smugly.

Ludwig was frozen. His mouth was dry. His head felt light. But still there was the slight pressure of Francis' hand, goading him forward.

Slowly, trembling, Ludwig brought his hands up to the waistline of Francis' jeans. Somehow he managed to unbutton and unzip them. His face burned with humiliation.

With the fly parted he could see a slight bulge in the red underwear beneath. He swallowed thickly, and then, helplessly, pulled down the elastic band to reveal Francis' cock.

The member seemed to bounce out a little as it was freed of its confines, pointing its tip towards Ludwig's face almost purposefully. The humid smell of private parts filled his nostrils and for a moment he couldn't breathe.

But the hand was still pushing gently, just enough to guide his lips to the head of the cock. Ludwig hesitated for a moment, examining the genitals in front of him. This was Francis' penis, the one he had been forced to swallow before. Hot shame flooded through him at the thought. He had let this organ into his body before, and now he would do it again, opening for it like some whore. That's what Francis had called him, wasn't it? A whore.

He was suddenly acutely aware of the shame of being a man and a whore, a male slut. He was made to penetrate women, biologically speaking, and yet he opened himself like a woman for other men. Could he really even call himself a man?

Defeated, he reached up and wrapped his hand around the hot, half-hard shaft, lifting it to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he sealed his lips around the tip, gently sucking at the smooth skin.

The taste wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't disgusting either. It was just there, and Ludwig tried not to notice it as he hesitantly took the rest of the head into his mouth, moving his tongue half-heartedly along the underside and slit.

Francis grunted quietly. "Deeper," he breathed, pushing Ludwig's head forward.

Ludwig's eyes watered as he took more of the cock in, until he felt that his mouth was as full as it could be, full of hard, hot flesh. He started to move tentatively in and out, trying not to make himself gag.

"No hands. Look at me." Francis' voice was gravelly as he swatted his hands away from the base of his shaft. Ludwig reluctantly raised his eyes to his face as he continued to move in, out, creating a slight suction.

Francis' face was relaxed, but his eyes were still piercing as he watched the boy sucking him off. "Yeah, that's right…" he murmured, guiding his head a little more quickly. Then, suddenly, he pushed Ludwig's head down hard, forcing his cock further into his mouth until he felt the back of his throat.

Ludwig jerked and choked around the engorged organ in his mouth. For a moment he was certain he would throw up, but then Francis loosened his grip and he was able to pull away, coughing.

All of a sudden there were footsteps on the stairs. It took Ludwig a moment to process this, but when he did, he looked up at the bedroom door in horror. Francis hadn't closed it all the way, and Ludwig had assumed they were alone.

And then there was a form visible through the doorway. "Hey Francis, you want to—" Antonio stopped short as he opened the door wider.

Francis looked at him crossly. "Can't you see I'm a little busy here?"

Ludwig tried to hide his face from Antonio's surprised gaze. The last thing he needed was for him to see him like this, too. Please, Lord, let me find a hole to crawl into and die.

Antonio's face fell. "What… what's going on here?"

"I'm getting head, that's what. You ought to be familiar with the concept. Now, would you kindly give us some privacy? Unless, of course, you prefer to watch, or join in…"

Antonio shifted uncomfortably. "N-no, I…" His eyes flitted nervously between the figure huddled on the floor and the one leaning easily on the bed. He swallowed. "S-sorry," he said almost fearfully, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Antonio stood for a moment in the middle of the small living room in indecision. This didn't sit right with him. Perhaps, if he alerted Gilbert, then his friend would forgive him. But Francis would be angry.

He remembered the look of shame and fear on Ludwig's face as he practically cowered away. He bit his lip.

Gilbert deserves to know.

Antonio pulled out his cell phone, and sent a text.

...

A/N: I made this chapter 16 rather than 15 part 2 because it got so frickin' long, and I figure a different POV deserves its own chapter. And yes, I'm still alive and kicking, and writing. Thank you all for your incredible patience and support. It's been a very busy summer and it was very difficult to find the time to write. I hope I won't have to keep you waiting this long again, though the upcoming semester might be the busiest I've ever been in my life... still, I hope to make the time to write, because I am super excited to get the next couple of chapters up! Things are going to be heating up, folks, trust me. Until then, I hope you enjoy this! Don't know if it makes up for waiting so long, but... I hope to get the next chapter up soon.

Reviews make me ever so happy! And now I've posted this chapter, I would like to get around to replying to some old ones. Again, thanks so much for your patience. Your support means a lot!

Next chapter: Well, Ludwig and Gilbert are going to be in the same room at the same time finally...