Work Text:
June 1996
Roderich was still pissed at him, Gilbert mused, the thought flitting through his mind as he watched the sun play along the damp, pale flesh in front of him, soft muscles flexing as Roderich moved in his lap, little punched-out gasps escaping him while Gilbert tightened his grip on bony hips, helping to raise and lower the brunet onto himself. He knew he was still pissed because Roderich insisted on facing away from him; Gilbert hadn’t even been able to sneak a quick kiss, so he must have really irritated the young master earlier.
Roderich was such a brat, sometimes. Gilbert would have laughed if he hadn’t been otherwise occupied.
He let his attention wander down Roderich’s back, from shoulders dusted with faint freckles—and he could still see the indentations of his own sharp teeth alongside them—down to the two indentations at the small of it, skin shining with perspiration and only faintly lined with scars. He always loved touching that smooth skin; whether in bed or on centuries-old battlefields, staining it with either bruises or blood, visceral reminders of his touch.
Roderich probably had some of the smoothest skin out of all of them, as often as he’d dodge any actual physical confrontations. Though that didn’t mean he never fought; Gilbert could attest that the brat absolutely could hold his own, the scrappy little thing; Gilbert still had a scar on his thigh from a dinner some decades ago. He couldn’t recall what he had said to the Austrian, but he certainly recalled the tines of the fork piercing through his trousers, a bit too close to his favourite attribute.
Possibly Roderich’s favourite too, if his choked little gasps meant anything.
Gilbert could picture Roderich’s face: strands of dark hair clinging to his forehead and cheeks, rosy mouth swollen and opened to let quiet whimpers escape, his pretty eyes shut, dark lashes casting shadows underneath them. God, he’d always loved watching Roderich while he took him and he cursed Roderich for refusing to have a mirror near his bed, if he wasn’t going to do Gilbert the courtesy of letting them fuck face-to-face. So instead, he contented himself with watching Roderich writhe in his lap, watching the lovely arch of his back and the way Roderich tilted his face upwards, watching where their bodies met and watching his cock disappear again and again into Roderich, whose rhythm slowed as he grew tired, and Gilbert knew he’d be able to wrestle him down without a fuss soon enough.
Well, without too much of a fuss. Roderich never made anything easy.
He trailed a hand up that expanse of flesh, thumb running over the knobs of his spine, before he let it rest between his shoulders, savouring the sensation of Roderich hot and tight around him while he could, not knowing when Roderich would let him do this again, and he wanted to luxuriate in the moment as long as he could.
He’d not necessarily meant to wind up in the bedroom; Gilbert had just been bored and figured since they were finally on better terms, especially since Roderich’s last birthday party, he could afford to swing by and annoy him. And maybe he’d be lucky enough to catch him on a day he felt like baking.
Instead, he’d found the other napping—in the middle of the afternoon!—on his sofa: half-buttoned shirt bunched at his waist, leaving his abdomen exposed, the lavender boxers he wore riding high on his thighs, with his left leg thrown over the back of the couch, right arm flung across his forehead, twisted in such a way that made Gilbert’s own lower back twinge. He’d just watched him, for a moment, watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, watched him squirm and settle, burrowing deeper into the cushions. His free hand clutched a throw pillow to his chest, and Gilbert felt something beneath his ribs hitch.
Quietly, he made his way over to the sofa, crouching down next to Roderich, and rolled his eyes when the brunet didn’t even stir. Roderich had never had a soldier’s instincts, which he’d benefited from more than once. Gilbert continued to gaze at him, noting that his hair was growing out a bit longer than Roderich typically kept it, and Roderich either kept forgetting to cut his hair or didn’t want to spend the money to get it done.
He’d always liked that dark hair on the longer side, liked the way it curled around his face, and especially liked the way it curled around his own fingers when he’d been able to snag the haughty brat, whether it was to bring him in for a kiss or rub his face in the dirt. However, instead of winding his fingers in those rich, dark locks, he pinched a soft cheek between his thumb and index finger, causing Roderich to let out a startled little squeak and he began to swat at him, violet eyes glaring up at him, and Gilbert only held tighter.
“It’s the middle of the afternoon, little master! I take the time out of my day to come visit you, and you’re passed-out cold!” he teased, warming at the sight of the flush that spread across Roderich’s face. “Ludwig is in the middle of a health-kick and we don’t have any decent food in the house; I’m gonna starve like this! Make me something nice, why don’t you?”
“You could say ‘please!’” Roderich scolded, though it lost some of its strength as he struggled to pry Gilbert’s fingers away from his face. Unfortunately, for Roderich, Gilbert had always been the stronger of the two and he kicked off his trainers and straddled the slim figure, using his weight to hold him down as he managed to wrangle his free hand around both of the brunet’s wrists, pinning them to his chest.
“I’m a guest, though!” Gilbert laughed.
“I didn’t invite you!” Roderich snapped, before his expression turned thoughtful: brows furrowed and his mouth pouty even as he still tried to squirm away from the rough grip on his cheek. “How did you get in, by the way? Everything’s locked,” he questioned.
Relenting, Gilbert let go of both Roderich’s face and his wrists, content to rest his full weight on the other, for which the other expressed their displeasure with a whine before he gave up on freeing himself.
Gilbert shrugged. “Your lock’s not working,” he said, grinning when Roderich glared up at him, no longer struggling, and he let himself enjoy the feel of the warm body beneath him.
“You picked it, you mean,” Roderich accused.
“I’m doing you a favour, Four-Eyes. Anyone could have broken in with your shitty locks; you should be thanking me for testing them out.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that!”
“Exactly! I went out of my way to help you, but here you are yelling at me.” He cackled when Roderich just pursed his lips and turned his face away.
He was always so cute when he was irritated.
Finally, Roderich said, “Fine. If I feed you, will you just behave? And get off of me; you’re heavy.”
“We’ll see.” As much as Gilbert would have preferred to stay where he was, he hadn’t been joking when he complained about Ludwig’s sudden interest in “healthy living.” Relishing the rush he’d gotten from subduing the slim man, he pinched Roderich’s cheek one more time before hopping off and hauling the brunet up and off of the sofa, ignoring his protestations.
Gilbert followed the brunet into his kitchen, definitely not sneaking a peek at Roderich’s ass.
“So, why can’t you eat at your own place?”
Gilbert snapped his attention back up, keeping a sigh to himself when he saw Roderich was still looking ahead. He snorted, rolling his eyes, “I told you; Ludwig’s on a health-kick! He’s got it in his head he needs to worry about cholesterol and high blood pressure. It's all this low-sodium, low-fat bullshit.”
“How did he get that idea?”
“He’s been talking to Alfred again. The kid’s alright but goddamn does he get some weird ideas.”
He heard Roderich sigh. “Lutz worries too much,” he said. “He can get so wound up. I thought he was starting to relax a bit with Feliciano’s influence.”
Gilbert felt his left eye twitch at the nickname. “Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “the little shit is stubborn. Set in his ways, and all that.” And he was absolutely not sulking when he added, “Doesn’t listen to me, either. Thinks he’s fucking grown.”
“Tell him to visit,” Roderich said. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“What are you, deaf? Tell him yourself, I just said he doesn’t listen to me.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“Yeah, me neither.” Gilbert laughed when Roderich turned around to glare at him. He liked watching the way his nose scrunched up when he was irritated, the little pout he’d make, the rosy stains across his cheeks and nose.
God, he was always so pretty when he was angry. He loved riling him up like a spoiled housecat. Just adorable.
So he definitely hadn’t planned on getting into Roderich’s bed, but Gilbert wasn’t one to shy away when fortune smiled on him.
He dug his fingers into those sweaty hips as they stilled, Roderich clearly exhausted, and instead of moving him, he kept the little princeling firm against him, liking the way he shivered in his lap, the minute movements he tried to make, the way his voice trembled with each shuddering breath he took. He let his hand wander up to press into Roderich’s stomach, tracing small circles with his fingers, feeling the muscles clench and jump, the backs of his knuckles just skimming the sides of Roderich’s pretty cock.
Then, he tightened his grip around Roderich’s waist and flipped them over, the other letting out a sharp yelp at the sudden change having barely been able to brace himself against his forearm. His other hand gripped the downy bedding beneath them, chest pressed against the mattress and his back arched at an exaggerated angle. This time, Gilbert let himself grasp Roderich’s hair, rough fingers catching on the strands as he pressed the side of his pretty face into the coverlet, the fingers of his other hand digging angry red marks into the mottled flesh of his little master’s bruised hip. He held Roderich in place as he slowly pulled back, nearly pulling himself out, before he buried himself back up to the hilt, drawing a high, keening moan from Roderich’s tender throat.
He set a pace just short of brutal, not giving the other a chance to settle.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” Gilbert rasped, himself now damp with perspiration, chalky skin blotched with heat. “Drives me fucking crazy the way you act like you’re so much better than the rest of us. Like you’re better than me. But look at you, now,” he taunted, grinning at the cute little sounds Roderich made each time he thrust back into him, almost like he was sobbing. “You get all pissy with me, get me all worked up, then you look at me like that—” He barely even knew what he was saying anymore, too caught up in having Roderich under him, feeling him beneath his hands, haughty demeanor stripped from him, subdued. He grit his teeth, staving off his own orgasm, not willing to waste the moment, and he slipped his hand from Roderich’s hip to grasp at the brunet’s own weeping length, wet with slick, and he smirked at the startled whimper that escaped those bite-swollen lips before he started stroking him in tandem with his rough thrusts, determined to make Roderich fall apart.
It came sooner than he’d wanted, for both of them; the moment the little prince clenched down around him hit like a tidal wave, and he’d only had a second’s clarity to pull out and release himself across Roderich back and buttocks, who had gone boneless with his own climax, meek and pliable now while Gilbert continued to gently coax the last of his orgasm out of himself as he brought his attention, hazy and warm, to Roderich’s stained flesh, before he brought his palm down sharply on his ass, chuckling at the other’s offended gasp. He rolled him over onto his back, and Roderich seemed to melt into the covers, his stomach splattered with his own climax, his chest heaving up and down, face flushed and eyes heavy-lidded.
Roderich was always so beautiful afterward, unguarded and open, hot and wet with spent desire.
He felt his cock twitch in renewed interest, though he knew better than to press his luck. But he could still admire. Before Gilbert could catch himself, he bent down to brush a kiss on his lover’s forehead.
“I’m still irritated with you,” he heard Roderich mumble, though he made no real attempt to push Gilbert away.
The blond huffed and flopped down next to the other and pulled him close, unmindful of the half-hearted struggle Roderich tried to put on.
“Settle down,” Gilbert ordered, “and I know, you spoiled brat. You’re not that subtle.”
“I’m not trying to be,” Roderich huffed, but despite his words, he let Gilbert pull him into his arms, resting his head on his chest, slim little fingers tracing circles on the scarred skin, his breath tickling the snowy hairs there.
Gilbert observed him for a moment: his downcast eyes and long, dark lashes, the faint freckles across his nose and cheeks, rosy with afterglow, damp hair stuck to his temples, and he must have been silent for too long because Roderich turned his violet gaze upwards, his brows pinched and mouth pursed into a little moue.
“What is it?”
“Nothing to worry your pretty, little head about, little master,” he teased, but tightened his hold on Roderich all the same.
“Too tight,” he whined, squirming in Gilbert’s arms, only resulting in the blond squeezing him even tighter. Roderich huffed and gave up, and Gilbert could almost feel the pout being aimed at him. After a few beats of silence, Roderich glanced back up at him. “You never told me where you came in from,” he pointed out.
Gilbert shrugged and hummed, “Oh, I guess I didn’t. Well, it’s not important.”
“I need to know what door you damaged!”
“I would never break a lock, and you know it.”
“That’s not the point, you maniac!”
“It’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” he sang, before he tapped the tip of Roderich’s nose with his index finger. Gilbert grinned at Roderich’s stubborn silence, imagining the way his jaw was tightened and how his lips were pursed. Without warning, he rolled them both over and looked down at Roderich, who still glared up at him.
“You’re adorable, Roderich.” He held back a chuckle when his lover’s face flushed, crimson creeping down his neck and spreading across his collarbones and shoulders. It had been a while since he’d been able to observe him like this. The last time they’d been in bed together had been some years before the wall came down, when he’d still been living with Ivan and had found himself down south on some minor business trip. They’d fought, he remembered, Roderich practically bolting from his own bed, and no matter how much Gilbert had cajoled him, he’d insisted the moment was a lapse in judgement, which had stung more than he’d liked to admit at the time. He’d told Roderich to never talk to him again or contact him in any way before storming out of the little master’s house, though he regretted the words almost as soon as he’d uttered them; it was a request that he knew Roderich would never have a difficult time fulfilling.
He’d gone back to East Berlin, angry and hurt, and probably a terror to be around—likely rivalling Ivan’s own temper—as even Tolys had stayed out of his way for the next few days, following Ivan’s request to return to Moscow.
Now, though, he pushed that memory away as he had Roderich nude beneath him, soft and sweet, his startled gaze fixed on Gilbert, and he brushed damp, dark strands away from the brunet’s forehead.
“Gil?” Roderich's soft voice drifted in the now-quiet room.
“Don’t worry about it,” Gilbert murmured. “Just looking.”
“And what are you so focused on?”
“Just you.”
Roderich turned his face away, but Gilbert saw the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears coloured, the way he bit his bottom lip, and it was silent for a long moment, the only sound echoing in the room were their shared breaths, and Gilbert felt his stomach clench.
As he opened his mouth to push away his previous words, Roderich glanced back up at him, a softness to his gaze he hadn’t seen in decades, maybe a century, and he ducked down, burying his face in the crook of Roderich’s neck, inhaling that perfumed oil he enjoyed so much, and he heard Roderich ask, “So, are you still hungry?” When he didn’t answer, he heard the other man huff. “I’ll make you something, I suppose. But I want to nap, first.”
Gilbert decided against reminding Roderich he’d already had his mid-morning nap; sleep sounded good to him, anyway.