A/N; Yes, I wrote this. Yes, I'm reposting it. I'm HiroyasuYumi, and my account was deleted. I'd been a member of for nearly 4 years, and then they just decided to delete me last month. Anyhoo, I'm reposting this because I actually liked how this turned out. Have some GerIta

Damn it.

DAMN IT.

Feliciano threw the vibrator aside and shoved away the pillow he'd previously been clutching. What a waste of time that had been. He had tried and tried for a fucking hour, but there was no relief. No light at the end of the tunnel.

He angrily grabbed his phone to text Ludwig. The cursor flashed.

You've been gone long enough. Come back already.

He scrapped that one. He sounded too casual, considering that they hadn't spoken

since Ludwig left. What did Ludwig want him to do? Cry 'uncle'? At this point, he was more likely to scream it from the rooftops. Ludwig always took extensive business trips. Or at least, that's how it felt. Feliciano could handle two days. Three was pushing it.

But two weeks?

Fuck.

In all honesty, Feliciano was a complete sex addict. At first sight, he seemed to be more of the "Let's Make Love!" sort. But no. He preferred the other way of doing things. The urges never came when Ludwig was home, but as soon as he walked out the door, Feliciano felt the loss.

And then he really felt it.

To the point that he would consider impaling himself with a condom-covered cucumber.

Of course, that never did much.

He'd tried many methods to alleviate the issue himself in those first seven days: humping the couch cushions, using the shower extension, a vibrator, then two, then three, gagging himself (that always excited himself), using one of Ludwig's ties on his cock...

Sure, the friction was nice, but... Blue balls couldn't be cured with just Ol' Righty.

It takes two to tango.

Only eight days had passed since Ludwig had drove off. Would it be bad to call him? He'd never done it before. How would he express his issue to the blond, anyway? Ludwig was a fairly conservative man under the impression that Feli was a sweet little cupcake. Feliciano hated to ruin that perception. But maybe it would get his point across. "I miss you" or "I'm lonely" just seemed so... Well, it was more molehill, and Feliciano was feeling more Mount Everest.

He stood and pulled on some pajama pants, pacing half-naked up and down the hallway. His phone burned in his hand. Angrily, he punched in the numbers, too irritated to scroll through his contacts. The phone rang endlessly. He slammed his back against the wall, a hand flying into his pants to grip his half-hard cock.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"Come home."

There was a chuckle on the other end. The Italian groaned heavily into the receiver.

"Lovino, you called the wrong number."

Fuck. Was he stupid? Not even Lovino spoke this way. What now?

"Luddy."

There was a light gasp. Feli's voice deepened threateningly. "Come home now. Right now. Leave your bags. Just hurry here and then you can go back tomorrow."

"Feli...?"

"Dammit, Ludwig, listen to me!" He groaned again, sliding down the wall. "Do as I say," he said, clearing his throat, "Come home."

"A-Alright, Feliciano, but the house had better be burning down."

"Shut up!" he yelled. The German gasped again. Shit. He hadn't meant to say that. It was time for a new approach.

"Come home and fuck me dry."

It was quiet for a moment, and then there was strained breathing.

"I'm on my way."

A/N: There's the first chapter.