DRABBLE SELECTION PART ONE:
Le Baiser et le Coeur.
Including not so innocent drunken mishaps from an unlikely source, and entirely expected antics from the other. Two times round. Ludwig, Gilbert, Matthew and Francis.
the bittersweet aftermath – Ludwig, Gilbert.
The room was a pulsing mass around him, neon dyed, stained in color; and reverberating with the inescapably beat of music.
And it could not have been the tenth beer, the heavily generous helping of liqueur gelato that made Ludwig's head spin like this right now, lost in the glitter of silver chains and raw metal chain links, chained even to the people that danced madly, as if entranced, before him.
If it was anything, other then pure, coincidental fluke, as the cold touch of his brothers hand left his shoulder, the faint glimmer of a grin flashing before he disappeared into the crowd; then it was the music.
It was intoxicating.
His heart was beating heavily, irregularly in his chest, like some foreign object. It was like... a drug.A drug, taken by his troops of the second world war, taken by him when necessity required it, and then Ludwig was doubling over, gasping, at the burning pulses of energy racing through his veins, eyes tightening, as he realised the implications- A flash of a steady pattern in the crowd, the regular figure, moving towards him, returning, before the light hand was on his shoulder, twisting lightly with his brothers grin. "Heyyy, brother! You like my little present? It should lighten you up nice an-"
Hands tightening, Ludwig's fingers gripped the thinner mans throat, the words ended in a rush of air, before he was hit by a wave of dizziness, the Prussian breaking the grip easily before gripping his shoulder, the laughter wheezing in his ear in short, irritating as Gilbert took his weight with an 'ah-haa, eaaasy west!' The air glowed around Ludwig, seeming to reverberate with the bass into little multi-colored stars, and the heat reached the pit of his stomach.
His skin was on fire. Swaying, he tried to regain his balance, his feet, but the ground was slippery under him like the lights themselves were made of oil. There was a movement under his fingers, his brother readjusted himself, practical, in preparation for the weight; and Ludwig toppled over him, collapsing to the floor.
Panting, with the hiss of air beneath him, catching his cheek, searing off of his ear in burning streaks, his brother was beneath him; and Ludwig turned his face towards him.
The slightly pained, but still chuckling grin gleamed in a flash of violent red from a passing strobe, the music surrounding them in a scream of emancipated emotion.
Something broke, it must have; as suddenly Ludwig could not longer think, no longer rationalise, the metallic clangs of the chains, and laughter clashed against each other in his ears, the bloody gleams tainting his vision red.
And then the blond German's head was tilting down, his lips slanting down in a dogged movement, and the older man was gripped roughly by the neck as dry, chapped lips made an awkward pass at his mouth. Barely recognizing he failed the first attempt, Ludwig closed on him more firmly, grip moving down to press down on the mounting, yet delayed resistance, as red narrowed and flashed awkwardly, frantically, in an increasingly hyperventilated manner; before with a hard shove backwards to establish a better position, he connected, warm lips surprisingly gentle, calmer.
His body fell back awkwardly, unhindered, the frantic beating of his heart reverberating the room with every beat, focusing blandly on the ringing clang of glittering metal and black, devilishly seductive chaos around him, and he recognized the reflection of himself in that dark room.
The world had more complexity, than he could ever plan for. As his bruder knew, of course.
discoveries de le baiser français – Francis, Matthew
This was too close. This was just... After a moment, in that warm bubble of air, Matthew found the will- no, the strength to open his eyes against his brother, his hand raised to push the other man away. That was enough, and he'd prove that, too. His eyebrows came down, a ferocity overcoming his expression... that only served to please Francis, it seemed, as the other man took his arm, pressing him towards him once more with a quiet 'shusshh'.
"...no, Francis!" Matthew shut his eyes again, mouth moving to grim determination as he pushed harder against his mentor, twisting his head away. Francis's response was immdiate; his hand flashed forward, knocking matthews hand back from where they gripped the light fabric, his chest crushing forward against the french man as his eyes widened he blue wide, confused, staring into his 'brother's similar, yet never quite the same gaze, that seemed to be darkened with some intensity. "I said I wanted to show you something, cheri. You have been with that stupide Arthur too much, non? No patience..."
Matthews heart rebounded in his chest, sending the blood roaring into his ears, as the french mans hand trailed languidly down his back, struggles increasing once more as he shoved against his brother, blonde strands flicking as she shook his head uselessly, hands useless against the others shoulders. When Francis had called him here, 'la Paris', he had been excited, stupidly, but he had known to be cautious, from experience itself. The hand slowed, carving little circles into the small of his back, and Matt shuddered lightly as the warm breath brushed his lips again, before his eyes closed as soft skin met his lips.
There was a flash of heat in front of his eyes, and the cool sensation... Matthews eyes shot open, shocked, narrowed as they flitted down to the others lips, twisted in a slanted grin, the startled, confused blue stare oblivious to the touch of Francis hand on his face as the man stroked down his wards cheek gently.
"Aaah, ssssh, mon cheri. C'est comment le baiser français, non?"