Alright! Thank you for your reviews! You guys rock!
Also, if any German is offended by this, I really don't know what to tell you. You're reading a fanfiction where Germany gets to top... You're welcome. ;)
Rated M. I own nothing.
OoOoOo
June 24th, 1948
Everywhere he's blocked in. Trapped. Unable to breathe at the stifling presences of those surrounding him and he hates it. Why won't they leave him the fuck alone? They've defeated him, and forced him to surrender. How much more can he possibly have for them to take?
The answer is not what he wanted.
They are building a blockade within him, and Germany snarls at the very thought. The other nations, the allied ones, are all over his country. They terrify his already scared people, the Soviet Bastards use this as a time to place pressure on the other allies.
Trying to carve up his body before he is even dead. The vultures.
It's been three years. Three agonizing years without her presence. It is all darkness, but they tell him it is the light at the end of the tunnel. Germany isn't foolish, he knows they spew lies. His treasure has been ripped cruelly away from him. Prussia says nothing about his tormented mood or the fact he is always furious. A raging and wounded beast.
He hopes she hurts as much as he does. He wants it to hurt so she remembers him and doesn't forget.
They haven't spoken a single word about what he's done to and with America. Prussia never brings it up, and neither does Germany. There is nothing to be said. It would be considered just another horrible crime among a large every-expanding list.
Germany had only acted in accordance with the will of his people.
Hitler would have approved. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, something that lent her toward the highly prized blood purity his commander sought, he would have thought she was make a fine country to be subjugated to German will. Germany had meant to keep her as a companion, but his urges had gotten the best of him. Hitler never knew about her. Germany had not spoken of her capture because his Führer had been worried that adding another antagonist, as Japan had done with the bombing of pearl harbor, had tipped the scales out of the their favor.
Time had proven his fear a reality.
Foolish. His forces had been spread too thin, and Hitler had lost sight of the focus.
Germany had been out of control, high on blood lust and power until he'd been stopped.
He was glad and wounded all at once. Grateful that it all could end. The jews had been his citizens. He had felt them die. He hated it as he was forced to love it. America had helped him keep from tearing himself in twain. He had wanted to punish her, to grind that stubborn spirit to dust beneath his boot. Yet, he'd sipped from her body like a man dying of thirst. He'd worked her until he'd both of them barely holding on and screaming in the process.
Her body bucking wildly beneath his, trying to cast him off. The sounds of her moans one moment and curses the next in-between searing kisses kept him awake at night. He often images her screams and cries of pleasure and pain when the ache becomes unbearable.
He remembers the rough nights. Where she made him fight for every inch he sunk into her depths, fury flashing in those lovely blue eyes, a shade lighter than his own.
And he shudders at the last night when she submitted to him so sweetly, begging him without reservation for him to taint her with his madness.
It's all madness.
But those memories are only that, the past in his thoughts.
Now, he's being portioned out between the allies and it is as close to destroying him completely as he's ever felt. Prussia and he fear the each coming day, but he refuses to show it. His people need him to be their strength and guiding force. So he will be.
He hears about it from a taunting Russia, how America refused to intervene. After a year it is removed, the blockade, but the Soviet Nation still taunts him with how no one was going to keep the German people from Russian rule.
He'd fight back, but he's bound unable to do anything as his government was torn down and reestablished. He's greatly weakened but refuses to rise to the taunts of the others. Prussia reassures him in the quiet moments when Russia is not looming over them and the Allies do not have guns nearly shoved down their throats.
America does not appear, even though her soldiers occupy sections of his country.
He hates the way the fact burns like thick bile.
OoOoOo
1952
Germany clenches fists in impotent rage. His anger does nothing, and holds no sway. He can feel the looming danger on the horizon, even as whispers of peace and freedom fly around him.
Yet in 1952, Russia takes his treachery to a new height and blocks the western allies. Germany silently seethes as Russia begins to ask of America and what he knew of her. He tells the other nation nothing. Wanting to pound the male's smiling face in until it is nothing more than bloody meat beneath his hands.
In August, America unites some of their forces together by creating the United States European Command. She gives what is left of his pitiful military a chance at redemption, by not leaving him alone to Russia. Heidelberg becomes the command center for the United State Army, Europe.
It makes him crave to crush her against him again. To kiss her so soundly that she never even thinks about leaving him again. He can't find her, even when he looks through his city to find her. However, there are moments he can physically feel her presence in him.
Like how he felt him inside of her. Her hands tied up above her head as she tried to fight the pleasure he gave her. That becomes his new favorite fantasy, because it happened many times and he'd never been able to get enough of her.
Now she's planting herself firmly, refusing to be cowed by Russia. He can almost envision the stubborn expression on her face.
It makes him smile for the first time since the war ended.
He loves her almost as much as he despises her for leaving. Even though he knew that she had to leave. He couldn't let her be discovered with the sweat from his skin still cooling on her body. He takes a calming breath as he senses that she'd left him once more.
Germany often wonders why she'd never told the allies. She would not have been blamed for any of it. They would have tried him for his crimes, especially against her person. England was simply itching for a reason to dismember him. America could have told them, but he knows she hasn't.
And he instinctually knows she never will.
It makes him believe the sweet words she'd whispered against his lips before he relinquished her to the harsh realities of the world.
Yet, he does not know if those feelings still hold. It is highly unlikely, so he says nothing. Makes no attempt to contact her after so long. Really, what is there left to say? America is brash and fool hardy, if she wanted him, he would known.
However, she never comes to him and he grows restless and accepting of the fact that his dreams might not come to fruition.
He's been painted the villain after all, and in no story he can recall does it ever end happily for them.
He doesn't need it though, merely wants it.
He is Germany. He will not falter again.
OoOoOo
1961
He has been split into two. The Federal Republic of Germany and the German Democratic Republic. Prussia eyes his warily, both of them understanding that something horrible is taking place. Prussia has been hurt far worse than him.
The red eyes of his brother glare heatedly at the other nations. However, he is nothing more than a remnant of what he once was. Still there, but absorbed by Germany. That has gotten them through many of the worst nights and the sounds of his people as they suffer in conflict or fear.
He is still paraded around like a useless toy, not given his chance to stand independently yet. He feels fury toward all of them. They have tried to strip him of his honor. He won't allow it.
He notices one day, when being forced to be present in 'discussions' and 'plans' for the future, Russia's face is swollen and his lip is split in more than one place. He wonders what happened, though some part of him has a guess.
Because it is the first time he sees America again.
It has been so long and the animalistic urge inside of him awakens at the sight of her. She looks just the same, and it makes him remember him words. He longs to wrap her in his arms and show her that he is still alive and not some damned puppet for them to play with. He watches her with guarded eyes and knows both of them are tense.
Does she fear him? It is not what he wants, not like this. His blue eyes look away and notice Russia is watching her with the same intense look on his face. The violet eyes gleaming with the same repressed madness Germany felt.
Coveting. Greedy. Wicked.
Russia's eyes are all these things and Germany despises it. He is not allowed to look at America like that.
America was Germany's treasure.
Her nation occupies a sector in his city, and it is the hope he clings to when East Germany is given by treaty to Russia. Germany digs his fingers into his palms so hard they break skin. He is forced to witness his brother being shackled like a willful hound to Russia because Prussia would not go otherwise.
Germany refuses to show weakness at this moment. He will stand tall and get his brother back.
HIs blue eyes land on America, so far away from him. She watches with a hard look as Prussia is humiliated. He watches her nod, knowing she at least gives Prussia some inkling of respect or decency.
Germany swallows the acidic taste of fury when Russia smiles at America. Her blue eyes narrow on the larger nation and Germany knows the look. If given the chance, she'll go after Russia with everything she's got. Much like she'd charged Germany that fateful night.
Bittersweet memories.
He's made aware when America deploys more cavalry to his borders. The joint project reaching an all time strength. He savors it. The feeling that she refuses to back down and let Russia have all of him. Between 1962 and 1963 she is always somewhere on his periphery. He can sense her there.
His darker nature is highly pleased she remains, and wants to feel her submitting to him again. Powerful as she has grown. However, he is not that twisted version of himself anymore. Most days, he just misses her and the few infrequent silent passing bys they have. They move around each other, edging to test the waters.
Neither of them is willing to take the plunge.
OoOoOo
1966
America moves USEUCOM to Stuttgart and tells him she's sorry about Prussia. He notices how she does not really look him in the eyes.
He's shocked and left longing for her to say more, but he cannot speak to her.
He simply does not have the words. He does not know how to tell her that she's always on his mind and though he has taken a lover since then, they do not compare to her.
Italy has her same innocent smile, but not the fire and all consuming will. When America went into war, she was all in and he loved it about her. It is not the same weight in his arms or the same scent upon his skin, but it is simply the way things are.
However, Italy is his ally and their nights keep his bed warm and his ability to stay focused possible.
Otherwise he'd keep mourning the loss of her in his arms.
OoOoOo
1968
He is re-launching his troops for the first time in decades. America is at his exercise, her face bright for him and he itches to touch it. To kiss the lips he knows so well, and show her. Really show her he hasn't forgotten about her.
Her smile lingers on her lips until Italy bounds toward him with a happy grin. Germany pretends he doesn't see the smile slip of America's face as if her smile were a puppet with cut strings. There is a burning sensation of guilt in his stomach.
She watches them for a moment as Germany proudly tells Italy what he hopes to accomplish. Her blue eyes look away and he knows that she has not taken someone else. His gaze watches Nantucket sway in the gentle breeze.
She is alone and it stings to know that she may take another, even though he already has. He knows it is unfair and wrong of him, but he despises the very idea of someone else wringing gasps and moans from her lips.
It is unthinkable.
Though England continues to watch America with eyes that are so similar to Germany's own, and Germany knows that England longs for her too.
The Bastard.
OoOoOo
1970's
He is busy making his country back to what it once was and improving his relations. He simply doesn't have much time to worry about other things, though he hopes Prussia is still alright. He has not heard from his brother and knows that will never happen as long as the dammed wall is in place. He wants it to come down, his people talk of it and his elected officials work furiously for the possibility.
He hears about Vietnam.
He listens with fists clenched until his knuckles are white about how America did not have a sweeping success. Many of her forces are wounded, or killed and he prays she wasn't with them again.
He knows she was when he takes in her somber appearance at the next meeting. She refuses to look at her, so he acts as if nothing has happened; hoping to spare her pride. However, he realizes it is a mistake when others follow his example and she is ostracized for the duration of the meeting.
He hates that she is constantly playing the 'hero' at the expense of herself.
He just wants to keep her safe. If she has to cry or be hurt, let him do the harming because he would be able to gentle it for her.
America sits with her head high, and he feels the same clenching around his heart for her.
OoOoOo
1980's
His brother. Prussia is finally back with him. A smile of relief in on his face and he watches as Prussia looks upward. There, on a nearby building, is America. She stands on the roof saluting his brother proudly with a smile so beautiful that it nearly physically pains him.
Gott he missed her.
It has been so long since her held her, so long since he loved her the way he wanted to. Anytime he wanted to. She still haunts his dreams, though not as frequently. He knows her President became involved and he is grateful for it.
Germany does not miss the unshed tears in her eyes. It is a moment that moves them all. So happy, yet so sad that it takes his breath away.
Prussia claps a hand on his shoulder as America turns and leaves. He was never able to say the words he wanted to say. Has never forced himself to, though they've had plenty of opportunities.
There is a look in Prussia's red eyes, like he already knows Germany still cannot give America up. He's right.
However, they celebrate that night. And as they hug and drink, and finally look toward the horizon with hope instead of worry...
Germany is content. He missed his brother so.
OoOoOo
1990
America is at war again and it takes all Germany has not to rip her from her seat and demand she stop because she'd putting herself in real danger. Didn't she remember what happened in 1944?
If she doesn't and Iraq tries anything, Germany will be forced to step in and he wasn't certain he could maintain his composure.
His hard-headed little Taube.
There is a look a steel in her eyes, and she watches him the whole meeting. He cannot look away from her blue eyes no matter how often he tries.
He finds himself still sinking in their depths.
OoOoOo
December 12th, 2014
Germany is well aware that America grows steadily less popular as time continues on. She is openly mocked and jeered at.
Still America does not shy away. She keeps her allies close to her side and her blue eyes watch her enemies at a distance warily.
Germany cannot seem to get near her and it makes him irritated a great deal of the time. He yells at Italy and other nations to vent his growing frustration. He firmly believes that whatever could have been between them has dies years ago.
It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
Until tonight. Tonight when she looked at him with such longing apparent on her face, even though Japan was speaking with her.
He's right next to her room. Their room, which adjoins and it is clawing at his insides. The heat threatening to spill out of control. She's looking at him and the blush on her cheeks reminds him of days long since passed when she'd scream out her pleasure under his touch.
A moment of blinding possibility.
"Gute Nacht." He tells her, finally able to find words.
She smiles at him, and he can see the affection. He has missed her so keenly. Yet, she's only a few feet from him at the most with her hair damp. He can smell the soft clean scent of her and he craves to do things to her again.
To make the beast with two backs and the beast is rearing its head.
"Yeah," she replies gently, "You too."
When she closes the door, he is so uncertain. Torn between doing something about them or not. Should he?
He doesn't know if it is the right thing, but he cannot go on like this. It has been far too long and the need is in him. In his blood with each pounding heart beat. He feels exhilarated. He does not think.
He is opening the door that separates their rooms after only a few minutes of debate. He had hoped only to talk to her in private, where other nations might not see them discuss the past.
However, when he peers through, he sees her looking out her own door. And when her shoulders slump slightly he knows.
He knows she wants this just as much as he does. So he doesn't need to approach her like a wounded animal, she's not frightened of him and that is all the invitation he needs.
He covers her mouth and yanks her backward against him as he kicks the door closed. She struggles against him, little hellion that she has always been and he ficken loves it. As he drags her toward the bed, because they aren't going to talk about anything until after he's laid claim to her again.
Germany has denied it too long, and he throws her on the bed, an old feeling of power coursing through his veins that leaves him feeling slightly drugged. He watches her with half-hooded eyes.
"Germany?" She breaths, and it is so close to a pant that it has him hardening nearly instantly.
He crawls over her, and kisses her. It is a harsh kiss, meant to punish her for staying away so long and reveals he is angry at himself for allowing her to do so.
He should have made her see, however it was not the time for regrets as she fisted ehr hands in his shirt, and he could feel her tremble. Germany wasted no time in trying to divest her of her clothes and America hurriedly tried to reciprocate.
She's just as eager as he is. Demanding with biting kisses and forceful tugs on his clothing. He refuses to release her. He won't. Not again. He'll wring the screams of pleasure from her body until she's hoarse and unmoving.
Germany doesn't care how long it will take. They have all night. He'll drag her to his bed after he's taken her once.
He'll tie her up with his damn tie if he has to. He won't allow her time to regret it. He won't stop.
When he shoves his hand between her legs she's already wet and willing. His blue eyes look at hers sharply and she blushes, trying to squirm away. However, his hold on her is like iron. America pants softly, closing her eyes.
Germany watches her, practically scorching the image of her face in this moment to his memory.
His schatz.