I'm Wide Awake, Lullaby, Mr. Hurricane, I can't remember if there was anything else.

I really thought Prumano was a rare-pair, but the interest this story's generated for my account has proved me OH SO VERY WRONG. Huge thanks to everyone who's read this and gone on to read the rest of my archive!

Now AVERT YER EYES, CHLDREN, THERE BE NAKED MEN AHEAD.

Black Cherry

Part 7: If I Actually Hated the Story I Wouldn't Be Writing Smut For It

They wake up in a better mood, and somehow over the next few days they keep it that way. The kitchen's put back in order and the supplies for the roof and pest removal show up. Bird shit is the least sexy thing in the world and the sticky-sweet sunblock Gilbert slathers on while they repair the roof is a close second. The garden thrives and Romano learns that his (boy)friend likes sweet cherries better than black ones, because every morning he rushes out to check on the tree in the orchard.

"Leave them alone."

"But there're some more way up at the top!"

"Gilbert no."

"If we don't get them then the birds will!"

"What is it with you and heights- GILBERT GET DOWN FROM THERE."

Another week turns into two and Gilbert's skin resists every effort to darken naturally under the sun. It prefers, according to the blonde, to blister just so there's an excuse for Romano to gently work a store-bought bottle of aloe gel into his back and shoulders.

So Romano makes a point of always complaining about the task, even when his hands start to wander in the evening and a back massages somehow turn into Gilbert panting and whispering his broken German words under his hands and hips. Romano refuses to pick up the pieces of the language Gilbert offers him, but when they share a breath between long hot kisses he whispers back love-drunk words that make the Prussian's blush grow darker and darker just like before. There's never anything on hand to make things go any further, but Romano's not all together sure how to improve on the needy kisses and the gentle scent of aloe.

Sex is elusive and not spoken of, because although it seems obvious it's actually really not. With a female partner there's a default position, there's a way of doing things that nine times out of ten is going to be just fine for the first encounter and doesn't require much forethought or planning beyond not being an ignorant sonofabitch in bed. With a male partner it's different, not completely different, but the approach isn't quite the same. Maybe Romano can just throw the almighty Prussia on his bed and fuck him senseless, but that's just as likely to be completely against his military sensibilities. Face-down can be offensive but face-to-face can be demeaning too if you're not ready for it, penetration itself just isn't okay sometimes but others might not count hands as sex.

So IT'S. FUCKING. COMPLICATED. And he doesn't care if he's over-thinking it. When another evening ends with Gilbert dozing with his head on Romano's bare chest, the Italian just strokes his platinum hair and calmly breathes in the scent of the aloe mixture that's become embedded in his couch. He's trying to bring his heart-rate down after all that incessant grinding and heavy petting, slowly tumbling words in his head that all roughly equate to 'How do you like to be fucked?'.

"Hey..." Hm? Oh, Gilbert's still awake. "How religious are you?" Uuuh...

"What?"

"Religious, the church, how much?" Enough to wear the cross and call himself a Catholic, like most of his people, why? "...I was the Order of Saint Mary's."

"I know that." Prussia started out as an order of chivalric monks or something, he's barely recognizable but Romano remembers meeting him once or twice way back when. He just looks down at him curiously and combs his fingers through those short white hairs again. "So?"

"So I get it." Get what? "If you don't wanna fuck 'cause we're dudes." ...

"You're crass when you-"

"-spend a month getting off in the shower because you won't fucking do it." Calm thoughts, calm thoughts, his blood belongs in his brain right now not flowing down. It doesn't help when Gilbert picks his head up off Romano's chest and gives him a dirty look. "But I get it."

There's silence between them and Romano really can't say how long it goes for, because Gilbert's just popped the lid off a box he's been hammering more and more nails into trying to keep it shut. There's a low tone humming through his brain and he really needs to change that light bulb in the corner because the lamp is splashing Gilbert with orange light, and it's so fucking distracting to see him all aglow. The love-marks are like Romano's little signature printed on his shoulders and throat.

"The last of the cherries are on the counter, love, can you grab them?" There's no physical way for Romano to smooth his voice right now without it breaking, and Gilbert just slides his arms free from under the Italian's back.

"Don't change the subject." His red eyes brighten and his pupils dilate slightly, he's curious and the bulge pressing against his stomach is probably a good reason why. Romano sitting up just a little and hooking a finger under his chin makes the meaning sink in.

"Believe me, I'm not... Go." Gilbert goes, which is both rewarding because he's obedient and disappointing because he's not on top of him anymore. While Gilbert searches the kitchen Romano slowly sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch before running a hand back through his hair, eyes closed and mind spinning. He's not trying to figure out what's happening, he's trying to think his way through what's going to happen first.

"Hungry?" He's got the answer and barely hears Gilbert's question, glancing at the bowl of pink fruits and pulling one up by the stem to look at in the orange light. He can't stop himself from smiling a little bit, biting his lower lip to keep it from growing too much.

"Wanna play a game?" He asks. The fruit is smoothly rounded almost like a heart, and as the couch sinks a little with Gilbert sitting next to him, Romano pops the little pink treat in his mouth and splits the firm skin with his teeth.

"Of course." The cherry falls apart in even halves and Romano tucks the pit into the corner of his cheek so it won't get in the way. He enjoys the tender flesh before pulling another cherry from the bowl that's now sitting in his lap, and as he swallows the sweet he holds this one up to Gilbert's lips.

"Don't eat it," he instructs, and Gilbert's giving him a curious, curious look, his mouth half-open to accept it. "Hold it on your tongue, I'm going to take it away from you." A challenge, a game, a competitive edge to give Gilbert something more to do than just lay back and stutter. Gilbert shows his support for this idea by languidly wrapping his lips around the cherry, over-extending on purpose so Romano's fingers feel the soft, warm, wet texture of his lips and tongue before they pull back.

Romano's smile is gone, but he's the furthest thing from upset right now. He takes the knotted cherry stem out of his mouth along with the pit and Gilbert's eyes follow the twisted branch like a magnet. Romano resists the temptation to stroke Gilbert's taught lips and lets his fingers slide behind his head instead, leaning in and pulling him over before they both take a breath and connect.

Gilbert knows what he's capable of, he doesn't need cherry stems tied in knots to hint at what's coming. The blonde moans softly because there's only so much space in his mouth with that cherry there to keep his teeth from locking. Romano gets his lips open with only a few strokes of his tongue and doesn't mind the barrier of teeth trying to keep him out. He just smiles as his boyfriend tries again and again to kiss back.

There are hands on Romano's sides and they sweep up and down with care, one hand holding his shoulder and pulling him closer while the other circles around the small of his back. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this, but if Gilbert wants to move on from familiar territory then Romano is only too happy to oblige him.

There are already fresh red marks on Gilbert's pale skin from earlier, so Romano lets his lips suck and tease his mouth while his own hands start to move. His touch doesn't wander across strong shoulders and firm muscle, but glide straight down to the edge of his pants. His boyfriend grunts once but it's too late, and Romano gets his belt open and the fly on his jeans down before taking exactly what he wants.

Gilbert almost chokes and the kiss breaks so he can cough, swallowing the cherry whole while he's at it. And Romano just smiles because Gilbert's face is so rosy, and he takes several deep breaths with his hands clutching Romano's back and shoulders. Romano doesn't need two hands for this but he uses one to pull that pesky waistband out of the way while the other curls firmly around what's been hiding under all those clothes.

He's rewarded with a healthy twitch against his palm, stammered German whispered in front of him, and the light plop of cherries hitting the floor where that bowl's spilled over in his lap.

"Move that out of the way," Romano murmurs, because since he's got two hands on Gilbert, he might as well use them. Gilbert fumbles to stuff the ceramic bowl behind the cushions next to them, and the hand he's got on Romano's shoulder almost bruises him as he slips his fingers down into the hot, dark space between the blonde's legs. "Tell me what you want."

They've moved very slowly but now Gilbert's leaning back on the arm of the couch. His legs are awkwardly placed on either side of him while Romano's feet are still touching the floor, sort of, he's a bit twisted now. He rubs his thumb firmly against the underside of the head in his grasp, and it sets off one of those lovely shivers that makes all the muscles in Gilbert's body tense and relax all together. His other palm is cupping the heavy weight lower down while those fingertips, well, he's not doing anything with them yet, he wants Gilbert to speak first.

"Gil."

"Oh God you're hands are warm..." The words come out in one fast breath, and Gilbert's eyes are closed as Romano pushes a little harder with his thumb and squeezes gently. As nice as that sounds, he wants an answer, "Just do something-"

"That's what I'm asking. What do you like?" Romano's not even doing that much to him, and yet Gilbert takes a fast, sharp gasp before running through his answer:

"I like you, I like you a lot, I like the things you do so just make up your mind an- aaahh...!" That's all he was looking for. Consent, permission, freedom to to try something with the understanding that if it doesn't work they'll try something else. So Romano does what's almost guaranteed to please most lovers, male or female. He doesn't mind the taste, and his hands are already there so when he can't go down all the way from lack of practice, he can still squeeze and rub and caress his partner.

The hardest fucking part is not fucking smiling, and Gilbert losing complete and total control of his tongue makes this next to fucking impossible. Smiling brings your jaws together, jaws have teeth, and teeth do not factor in to what he's doing in any sort of positive way. He knows Gilbert's sitting up again because his hips shift back slightly, and Romano's move back so he can rest more comfortably between his legs. He struggles to keep the smile away and when Gilbert's stuttering pitch changes, he's allowed to pull off and let his hand slide up and keep squeezing and rubbing the spit-slick top. It keeps the mess to a minimum as the heat collides with his palm, and Romano can grin and grin and grin to his heart's content.

"Feel better?" They're not done, they're not allowed to be done, not yet, so even when Gilbert reaches for him Romano shuffles back and grabs his lover's pantlegs. The blonde is just panting, sitting there like he's in a lazy daze, so it takes a few tries before Romano finally jerks the jeans free off his hips and lets them pile on the floor next to the couch. He wants to give the underwear the same treatment, but Gilbert gets his hands on him first and Romano finds himself pulled into a very strong, very appreciative hug. The embrace comes complete with a heavy kiss on his lips that competes with his smile, but Gilbert doesn't seem to care, and Romano definitely doesn't.

There's a hand tangled tightly in his hair and Romano doesn't mind it a bit, tightening his arms around his boyfriend's firm warm body while Gilbert starts tugging and fighting with his shorts. It's hard to choose between this kind of crushing embrace and searing kiss, or working his hands down to let himself out of his clothes.

In the end he lets Gilbert struggle with it, silently impressed with how he manages to get both layers down at once with only one hand, and the urge to force his bare hips down on him is crippling. He's still laying between Gilbert's legs, kissing hard on his throat as he feels them start to roll ove-

"It's a couch-!"

It is exactly too late when Romano gives the warning, and a moment later his living room is upside down and god damn his tile floors are cold. He hears Gilbert swearing and feels the hand that saved his head from the floor trying awkwardly to lift him up. Once Romano's oriented enough to figure out that his boyfriend is only half off the couch, he reaches up and pulls him the rest of the way down on top of him.

"Why are you laughing?" Gilbert growls, and Romano just can't help himself.

"Because we're pathetic." He kisses him and it's short, fast and sweet. And Romano does it again, and then once on his cheek, then along his nose and between his eyes, and he's still grinning and giggling. He runs one hand up from Gilbert's covered thigh and hip along his pale side, and he coaxes his boyfriend down on the floor to grind with him. "We keep falling off things."

"It's a narrow couch."

"That doesn't make it a bed." Bed. They should definitely go to Romano's bed for this. Cold stone floors aren't good enough for nights like this. "Not as much fun."

"I dunno, you haven't stopped smiling yet." What, is it a bad thing? "I didn't say that." Should he stop? "You should shut up."

So Gilbert gets him with a kiss that apologizes for the fall, and those shorts Romano didn't get a chance to pull off him are taken care of. Finally, after months of wanting and waiting they're actually nude in each other's embrace. It's a small victory but it's an important one, and Romano's the one to slowly break the kiss and take the moment in. He sits up slowly and Gilbert shuffles so he's resting in his lap, and if not for the tiles and the lack of space between the couch and the coffee table, this would be perfect.

So he asks again:

"What do you want, Gil?"

"I think I'm being pretty obvious." He's also a cocky shit.

"You think, but I wanna hear it first."

"Lovino." He was already looking at him but Gilbert cups his face with both hands anyways, re-establishing eye-contact and holding him like that. When Gilbert leans in he expects a kiss, but instead he's a damned tease who only speaks to him with their lips so close together they actually brush each other. "You Romantics have a reputation with strangers." he resents the words, not that husky voice Gilbert uses to say them. "I'm not a stranger." He knows that. "So I want you to put that stupid grin back on and show me what this's like with someone you love." Oh...

Oh.

The words take a moment and then Romano feels their effect. It's chilling at first and then it suddenly gets very warm, like thick honey running down his back and washing down his limbs so he feels slow and unbearably sweet. His mouth is half-open when Gilbert gives him the short kiss he was hoping for, Romano's eyes staying open as his mind spins its wheels in a hurry before turning in a completely different direction from before.

Love. Love, love, love; someone he loves.

"We, uh..." It's not about sex with a man or a woman or caring about what's proper or decent or casual or whatever. It's about texture and taste and warmth and voices and wanting love, expressing joy. It's not about sex with Prussia, it's about making love with Gilbert. "We need a bed."

And just like that, Romano's not over-thinking things anymore.

My frustrations with this story stemmed more from the fact that I only worked on this all week instead of my dedicated fic for the HetaOni (sub)fandom. D: I needed Happy!Mano to make myself feel better for ripping the poor boy's heart out and stomping on it in Recovery, but I kinda didn't expect to spend a whole week working on a fluff bunny.

But it's over now so bwahahahaha enjoy chapter 8!