A/N: My muse, wonderful and delightful person that she is, has a debilitating obsession with Hetalia. She has shoved it at me so often, flogged me with it so unmercifully, that I at last caved and consented to watch. I got through five dubbed episodes. Five. I could not live through more. This dismayed my effervescent muse. She cajoled and enticed, and tried to get me to change my mind until I finally announced that I could bear no more. If I had to sit through one more assertion of how wonderful Italy was (whom I cannot STAND, fyi) I thought I'd have an aneurysm. I let it be known that I planned to exact my revenge. I believe she was scared, and I know she was hurt, but this is it right here. My revenge. She is in love with Germany/Italy, and I felt myself sufficiently informed with five eps under my belt to insert myself into the characters' heads. I'm satisfied with the result. So...without further ado, here is my first and last foray into the Hetalia fandom; the manifestation of the deep regard I have for my lovable Muse-chan.

Muse-chan, if you're reading this, I hope you forgive me for misleading you into thinking I would post something malicious. I did say that I'd prove my love for you. ^^

Beta: None.

Einmal ist Keinmal

There were rules. Accepted behavior. Strict adherence to both was the cornerstone of success. Every German knew this. Observance of rules and proper behavior was the foundation of their entire society, and thus were they known for excellence. It was, therefore, intolerable that within his own home there was all manner of disruption and instability. Willful disregard for his rules and proper behavior in general.

It was his fault for taking the infuriating man prisoner in the first place. He'd opened the door to disaster in his orderly life. In his defense, he had sent the man back home…only to discover him right back on his doorstep shortly afterward. And of course, ever since then the man had turned his life and household upside down.

The heels of his boots clicked sharply on the polished wood of his floor as he walked down the long hall that led from the foyer to his den. He would enjoy a brandy before retiring to bed. Perhaps read a bit. At the end of his long, tiring days, he looked forward to the two hours he allotted to himself to unwind. His roaring fire in the deep fireplace, his brandy, and a book. Simple things, creature comforts that were the right of any man.

-oOo-

He found his book and brandy already set out for him on a small trolley next to his reading chair. His household staff knew his routine well. Ludwig allowed a small smile of pleasure to grace his lips as he undid the buttons of his stiff uniform tunic. He set it across the back of his chair, sat, and took up his brandy with a slow widening of his smile. Grasping the stem of the snifter between his fingers, he cupped the bottom of the glass and lifted his brandy to his nose. He inhaled deeply. A sigh escaped him as his eyes drifted shut. He leaned back, and put one ankle on his knee. Already his mouth watered for the taste. As the crackling fire warmed him, he put the rim of his glass to his lips in preparation to sipping in leisurely fashion, quite content to let the rigors of his day fade to distant memories.

A discreet clearing of someone's throat.

Ludwig tried to maintain his perfect bubble of quiet enjoyment, but it was impossible. The bubble was neatly pricked, more so because he knew precisely what his butler's presence meant. Still, he remained holding his glass to his lips, the brandy so invitingly close that he could already taste it. He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to abandon his visions of a peaceful evening. The intruder cleared his throat again, though, and Ludwig opened his eyes to look at him. He set his brandy aside. "What is it?" he asked wearily. But he already knew.

"It is Herr Vargas," his butler said painfully. He knew just how deplorable any disruptions to the established routines were, and strove to keep them at a minimum. That he was here could only mean that something dire had occurred.

"What has he done now?"

"He has upset Herr Honda grievously; Herr Honda has gone. He bid me tell you that he will not cooperate with such a barbarian."

Ludwig lightly laced his fingers over his midsection. He stared with hooded eyes at where his butler was all but wringing his hands in distress. "Send Herr Vargas to me. And Dieter," he added when his butler had straightened from his short bow. "See that he and I are not disturbed for the remainder of the evening. I will retrieve Herr Honda myself in the morning."

Dieter left as quietly as he'd come, leaving Ludwig staring at the empty doorway. His eyes then roamed around his den, taking in the dark mahogany furniture. Only the claw-footed settee was done in carved and laminated rosewood. The rest…his wide desk, the two upholstered chairs before it, the tall bookshelves that lined the far wall, and the chair he currently sat in, were all of mahogany. His wingback chair was actually part of a three piece living room suite, the rest of which was in the sitting room adjoining his bedroom upstairs. He'd wanted this comfortable chair down here, though, to compliment the rest of his den.

Everything was upholstered in either hunter green or maroon, with accents of amber throw pillows here and there. The small area carpet beneath his chair was also amber, with an understated dark green design in the corners. Ludwig let his eyes come full circle, so that he was staring into the leaping flames in the fireplace.

-oOo-

The man couldn't even walk quietly, he reflected. He heard Herr Vargas coming long before the man actually arrived. It sounded as if he was skipping along the hall, and singing in his light, carefree voice. Not loudly, but that any singing was done at all tightened Ludwig's mouth. The Swiss clock on the wall behind him signaled that the hour was half-past ten. His houseguest arrived in the doorway with a small whoop, and one last little hop. Ludwig, now with one hand partially hiding his mouth while he leaned his elbow on the armrest of his chair, regarded him with narrowed, yet unblinking eyes.

Herr Vargas's hair was unkempt, as usual. At this late hour he was not in uniform. He had on dark trousers and a white shirt that currently had a linen napkin tucked into its collar. Looking closer, Ludwig was able to spot a smear of pasta sauce on the napkin. His houseguest had his ever-present smile in place, eyes wide and curious. Oblivious to nearly everything as always. "You wanted to see me?" he asked cheerfully.

Ludwig did not remove his hand from his face. "I understand you and Herr Honda had a disagreement." He kept his voice low, though he very much wanted to give in to the frustration and anger his houseguest unfailingly called up. "A serious one this time."

Vargas waved his hands in dismissal, chuckling. "Oh, I wouldn't say serious! Signore Honda was merely a trifle perturbed when I tried to show him the beauty of the human body."

"A trifle perturbed," Ludwig repeated in a near whisper. His voice lowered the angrier and more agitated he became. "He has left this house in a state of deep insult. What have you to say for yourself?"

"Well…I…hehe…" Vargas rubbed nervously at the back of his head, a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm sorry? I'm sure if we get Signore Honda back that I can ease his anger. I could sing a song for him, or make my family's secret pasta-"

Ludwig lowered his ankle from where it was resting on his knee and stood up. This quiet action had the effect of ending Vargas's rambling chatter. He began a slow, measured walk toward where his houseguest stood nervously just inside and to the right of the doorway. "I don't understand why it is that you appear to be such a dunce."

Vargas shrank against the wall the nearer his host came to him. He tried to smile winningly, but the imposing man approaching him did not smile in return.

"And I don't understand why you consistently ignore the rules and atmosphere of my home."

He was closer.

"Or why you persist in doing the very things I've asked you repeatedly not to do…such as parading yourself naked in front my other guest."

He was now directly in front of Vargas, close enough for the shorter man to feel the heat emanating from that broad chest. Ludwig reached out a hand and slammed his den door shut forcefully, making Vargas jump and issue a small moan of fright. This violent slamming of the door was the only display of Ludwig's temper, aside from his carefully neutral tone and expression. He leaned down into Vargas's face and lowered his voice to a hiss. "And I don't like you."

Vargas searched those ice blue eyes. He had his hands up under his chin, loosely fisted. He shrank down against the wall a bit more, feeling that furious gaze as a heavy weight on his body. "I s-said I was sorry…" He was very aware of the hand his host still had on the door that was now closed. He was bracketed on that side by Ludwig's muscular arm.

Ludwig's eyes roamed over the features only inches below his own face. The eyes were the very color of the brandy he'd been so close to enjoying. Vargas's lips were parted. His breath smelled of pasta and sauce, and indeed there was a tiny speck of tomato sauce in one corner of the soft, shapely lips. He stared at it.

Perhaps Vargas's most annoying trait was his attachment to him. He was impossible to get rid of, and while he was underfoot he went out of his way to smother Ludwig with every expression of his affection known to man. He cooked and sang and fashioned odd gifts for Ludwig, all of which were studiously rebuffed or ignored. He had his rules for accepted behavior, and Vargas managed to ignore every one. But the rules were there, and Ludwig, at least, knew how to conduct himself properly. He was above showing how angry Vargas made him, just as he was above showing what the anger masked.

"Why must you infuriate me so much?" he whispered.

Vargas widened his eyes at the tone of anguish. "Signore Ludwig…" he hesitantly stretched his fingers toward that face that was frozen in disapproval. His hand was caught and held in a tight, unbreakable grip.

The fire crackled. The faint ticking of the Swiss clock could be heard. One large, muscular blond man loomed over a slight, clearly afraid shorter man, and the silence was oppressive and laden with tension.

The hand was hot around his wrist. Vargas found his ability to breathe being called into question. He was powerless to break away from both the hand and the stern gaze. He stared upward at his captor.

It was a small movement: Ludwig's head tilted fractionally, moved inward just a bit, and suddenly the tension seemed to snap with an audible twang.

Vargas interpreted this tiny movement as a question, a plea, an admission to unmentioned feelings being returned. He leaned up with his characteristic impulsive recklessness, and sealed his lips to the grim ones above him.

Almost immediately the hand Ludwig had braced on the door came down on his shoulder and shoved him back to the wall, effectively breaking the contact of their lips. Almost immediately. There had been a second of hesitation on the taller man's part, wherein Vargas had been able to feel a brief, answering pressure on his lips. But now he was pinned to the wall with a hard hand. Ludwig was frowning and breathing somewhat heavily through his nose.

-oOo-

Vargas knew he was a pain in the ass. He somehow managed to do the wrong thing, each and every time, when he was in fact just being himself. He couldn't help it that he was enthusiastic about life and all the wonderful things it held. It was the nature of Italians to live energetically. Yet, despite his best intentions, he succeeded in annoying everyone around him here in this austere mansion.

He did not regret the kiss, chaste as it had been, nor had he imagined the response he'd gotten. He'd long since been aware of the undercurrents between himself and his host. Beneath the clipped words of admonishment and rebuke, there was a voiceless attraction. The blue gaze was often heated with more than anger. And now, here, the hard hand was on his shoulder still. Italians were enthusiastic about life, true, but they were also passionate. Clueless to many things he might be, but Vargas knew passion, and he knew that almost from the moment he'd come back to Ludwig, their interactions had been flavored with it. It roiled beneath Ludwig's mock indifference, and his own nervous naiveté, obvious to them both but never, ever acknowledged.

Until now.

A sultry heat bloomed between their bodies, warming them both. Ludwig stepped into the shorter man, bringing their bodies into contact with each other. Vargas, eyes on his, sighed softly through his open mouth at feeling the solid knee settle against his thighs. It pressed, seeking entry, and he shifted his stance to allow it. The hand on his shoulder slid to the back of his neck and pulled him forcefully against that hard chest. Ludwig's thumb dug into one side of his slender neck, while the tips of his fingers dug in on the other side. Vargas let his body relax completely in that cruel grip, giving the surrender that was silently being demanded of him. Only then did the hand Ludwig had around his wrist loosen. It opened and rubbed up his arm, then back down. Ludwig lowered his head.

His mouth was succulent, Ludwig discovered. Quite as moist and tender as it looked, and still tasting of pasta. It parted for him, for his tongue, even as Vargas turned to butter in his arms. He explored the young Italian's mouth thoroughly, sampling lips and tongue and all the rich crevices between. He was met with equal ardor, with the innocent and innate sensuality he'd been helpless not to notice in the man from day one.

For a moment he tried to pull back, to retreat to some semblance of reason and practicality. But Vargas's hands were questing over his face, running down to his collar to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. He pressed his lithe body closer to his, and Ludwig gave in. Just this once. Once wouldn't hurt. Once was never.

Free to indulge his shame at last, he did so unchecked, without the slightest restraint once committed. He lifted Vargas around the waist and carried him thus to his wingback chair. Here, he sat and had the smaller man straddle his lap. He allowed his shirt to be opened and pressed down and off his arms, even as he whisked Vargas's napkin away and latched onto his throat with open-mouthed greed.

-oOo-

No words. Ludwig bit him softly, suckled his skin strongly, and the sensation filled his loins with blood. Filled them until the crotch of his trousers were tight and restricting, and sweet pain coiled in his belly. He held to the wide shoulders as he let his head fall back. He made of himself a willing offering to Ludwig's commanding mouth, and the offering was accepted. Ludwig's hot lips traveled up and down the column of his neck as his hands skimmed down his back grasp his buttocks. He was yanked sharply against an answering erection that made him gasp.

"Touch me," Ludwig rasped. "Touch me, Vargas."

He did, striving to match the rough, possessive nature of Ludwig's own hands. So fierce, was Ludwig, in everything he did. He ran his hands over the bare shoulders, along the thick neck, over the blond hair that gleamed with firelight. His cupped the square jaw and lifted the tormented face to his. They were nose to nose, with his own face looking down into Ludwig's. "You always call me Vargas," he whispered. "Say my name. My given name."

Ludwig closed his eyes as those lips touched his in a light, brushing caress. "Feliciano," he sighed.

Feliciano kissed him.

-oOo-

Naked, they sat in the chair, and the firelight cast their shadows against the far wall and ceiling. Writhing, undulating giants that mimicked what the two men were doing. Ludwig gripped the brownish auburn hair in a fist as he kissed his way down one smooth shoulder. Feliciano rocked in his lap, rubbing his turgid length against Ludwig's pelvis in increasing excitement. There, arched and panting in the German's lap, he made an erotic picture, one Ludwig knew he would never forget.

He leaned back now and took up his snifter of untouched brandy. Still gripping Feliciano by the hair, he lifted the glass high and let it trickle onto the smaller man's upturned face. Feliciano licked at the thin stream were it dribbled over his lips. The rest ran over his chin, down his neck, to part in thin rivulets as it snaked down his heaving chest. This faint stimulation had a moan coming from him. Ludwig bent and slurped at the brandy running over one brown nipple. He made his way up Feliciano's chest, gathering brandy in his mouth as he continued to pour. When he reached Feliciano's face, he spat the warm liquid gently over the flushed cheeks, before claiming the pink lips once more.

The glass was taken from him. Feliciano broke the kiss long enough to upend the remaining contents onto their laps, soaking their stiff erections with it. He hissed in air at the cool wetness, but Feliciano only slid off his lap and settled himself between his parted thighs. He took Ludwig's full member in one surprisingly strong hand.

Feliciano's amber eyes remained locked to the blue ones as he licked slowly up the underside of the cock in his hand. He paused to swallow the brandy he'd gathered, then leaned up and ran his tongue around the wide mushroom head. The tiny slit at once leaked a stream of quicksilver. He let it spill, let it run in a slick line down over his fingers, before devouring the head whole, and sliding it to the back of his throat.

"Ahh…shit…" Ludwig stared down at where Feliciano's cheeks were hollow with the force of his suction. His hips rose and fell in time to the powerful sucking, yet he wanted more. "Harder," he said between his teeth. He grabbed at the silken brown hair. "Suck me harder. " He was full of a raging lust and wanted to act on it violently, to lose himself in erotic pain and passion. "Bite me."

Feliciano left off his sucking with a questioning slurp, to look up at Ludwig with uncertain eyes. Ludwig, left hanging, cursed and grabbed his own shaft. He was too close to his release to be gentle. Still holding to the Italian's hair, he fisted his length unmercifully, brutally, until he jerked and came with a sudden gush that covered Feliciano's nose and chin in hot, white spurts.

His body was completely relaxed in the aftermath. He leaned back in his chair as Feliciano dropped light kisses on his thighs and on the wet tip of his semi-soft organ. Feliciano wiped the cum from his face and sucked his fingers clean, one by one. He let his tongue play over the digits, watching the way Ludwig's eyes darkened with arousal at this sight, and gave a soft laugh of amusement.

Ludwig felt the laugh stroke his nerve-endings to a fever pitch; he lunged and bore his provocative Italian to the floor.

They rolled a bit too close to the hearth, making them wince, but then settled on the small rug before the fire. Ludwig straddled Feliciano's slim hips and pinned his wrists down by his head. He could feel the subtle throbbing of the smaller man's cock against his balls. Looking aside, he found the cut-crystal decanter of brandy sitting on the trolley, three-quarters full. He grabbed it, sitting back on his heels, and lifted the top off. He saw Feliciano's eyes widen in anticipation.

-oOo-

The brandy was room temperature, but felt as if it sizzled where it was poured over his stomach. Ludwig quickly moved backward in order to slurp it up, but more was poured on him. It was drunk from his navel, from the hollow of his throat, from the valley of his spine when he was made to turn over, and finally from his mouth. With the decanter still a third full, he took it and drenched Ludwig in turn, chasing the running steams with lips and tongue over the fair skin.

By the time Ludwig settled him on his back and bent his knees toward his chest, they were both feeling the effects of the brandy. He rested the back of one wrist on his forehead as he felt those strong lips nip down the backs of his thighs and over his nether cheeks. He jerked at feeling sharp teeth graze his hole, then bucked as it was sucked ruthlessly and without warning. "Ludwig! Oh, mio Dio!" his legs came down but were blocked by wide shoulders. Ludwig's hands came up to hold his legs pressed to his chest again.

His head dropped back to the floor. He was on fire, sweating with excitement and arousal, and lightheaded from the brandy. His senses were all spinning. The mouth at his ass was painful in its intensity, and he moaned constantly, tossing his head from side to side in a daze of lust. Long minutes went by, time where he thought his body would tremble to pieces, the pleasure was so sharp. There was relief at last as Ludwig leaned up to retrieve the brandy. He lifted his head in time to see the last swallow being tipped into Ludwig's mouth, before that blond head bent to his spread cheeks again. A moment later his hole was covered once more and the brandy funneled up his ass in a shockingly warm rush of liquid.

"Hold it in," Ludwig ordered breathlessly. "Not so much as a drop falls out."

Feliciano clenched his sphincter tightly, feeling the brandy move wetly inside him. The feeling was highly stimulating, leaving his own voice just as breathless. "O-or what?"

Ludwig snatched at the wayward curl hanging above the Italian's left ear, making him cry out and shudder hard. "Or I'll be forced to punish you," he said in a falsely gruff voice. He lowered his lips to where Feliciano was biting his own, but refrained from kissing him. He twined the curl of hair around one thick finger, enjoying the whimpers this elicited. "Hold the brandy in until I say otherwise. Clear?"

A fast, jerky nod of acknowledgment.

Ludwig was positioned between Feliciano's thighs, holding one of them up. The other rested against his hip. He used his nails to lightly rake across the skin of that thigh, dragging his hand over the flesh so that Feliciano let out a bleat of exquisite anguish. He panted, trying not to loosen his sphincter, as he felt the German's mouth leave moist trails along his jaw. A callused hand settled around his straining cock and pulled hard. "Gaaah! Stop!" he wailed. "I can't hold it if you do that!"

A mouth by his ear. "You'll hold it…" The hand squeezed and slid in an abominably decadent rhythm that had his breath freezing in his throat. "…until you're told to release it." An extra violent squeeze, one that had Feliciano seeing stars behind his lids. "Say, 'yes Ludwig.'"

"Y-yes, Ludwig."

Sweet torture, with a thread of cruelty: passion. Feliciano let the overwhelming sensations sweep through him, let his pleasure and discomfort build and mix in a heady solution of undeniable desire until at last his body arched off the floor, into the equally sweaty torso positioned above him, as he came. "Now," Ludwig commanded.

The brandy shot out of his rectum in a loud squitter, scorching hot from the heat of his body. Ludwig let it coat his randy cock as he rammed it balls-deep at that same moment, stretching the tight ring of flesh brutally.

Feliciano screamed. He clawed at Ludwig's chest until his hands were caught and held. The German gave an added shove, plugging himself firmly into the quivering body beneath him, then he gathered Feliciano close. He held him.

"Shhh, meine liebe." It seemed the oft-professed virginity had been true. Maybe he should have prepped him more. Not everyone enjoyed pain with sex as he did. "I'm sorry. It will fade. Relax. Take deep breaths."

Feliciano tried to comply. Ludwig stroked the backs of his knuckles against his cheek and that helped. The blond blew his brandy-scented breath gently over his flushed face and that helped even more. There was a kiss, an apologetic union of lips and tongue, and Feliciano felt his muscles turn to jelly. He lay quietly, with the wide, steely organ throbbing deeply inside him, and waited.

-oOo-

They shifted together, with Ludwig grimacing at how tight Feliciano was, and the latter chewing his lip to keep in his moans of pain. It was awhile before either adjusted, but when they did the pain did fade. Ludwig eased backward slowly, then back in, and it was all right. A few more careful thrusts, and it went from all right to good. Then it was very good until, when Ludwig leaned on his forearms and Feliciano locked his ankles behind the small of the blond's back, it was suddenly and surprisingly glorious.

"Yes," Feliciano purred. "Oh yes! Give me more, Ludwig, I want more of you!"

Ludwig was pleased to see such intense passion from Feliciano so soon after his pain. The way his Italian gave in to lust without reservation brought back his own former passionate desire to fuck long, hard, and violently. He pounded away at the scalding, grasping grotto of Feliciano's virgin ass. His grunts and harsh exhalations of pleasure were drowned out by a rush of fluid Italian that poured from Feliciano lips. The words were breathy, hitched, and strained with desire. Their meaning was clear, understood with heart and soul, if not with the mind. Ludwig's head was grabbed and brought down for a lengthy, dizzying kiss of such hunger that he lost his rhythm. He thrust erratically, losing control completely, as the kiss undid him. He came helplessly, rocking against the warm cushion of Feliciano's ass, and being kissed to within an inch of his life.

He remained inside him. Dropping his forehead against Feliciano's, he let out a ragged groan.

Feliciano giggled. "I came," he said shyly.

"You did?"

"Mmhm." He wriggled for Ludwig's benefit, letting the moisture between their stomachs squelch.

Ludwig's head felt as if it weighed as much as a cannon ball. He lifted it and stared into the hazy, golden brown eyes. "I want you again."

"Me too."

"I'm going to be rough. More than last time."

Feliciano smiled warmly. His eyes were scrunched in pleasure. "You can have me however you want me. I'm yours."

"Yes. Yes, you are."

His. His own little lusty Italian. As the night wore on, and he used the svelte body in a variety of creative ways, it was hard for Ludwig to remind himself that this was a one-time occurrence. Feliciano cried out his name so often, held him so tightly, and yielded so endearingly, that Ludwig was left with the sneaking suspicion that he had been claimed as well. Claimed thoroughly, never to be relinquished again.