Helloo~

Wow, guys! I know - it's always the same, but I just have to say it: Thank you so much for reading both "At least once" and "At least twice"! I was seriously surprised at the positive feedback I received; every single one of your reviews brightened my day! Some of them really flattered me.

As you can see, I wrote a sequel, but I'm a little insecure while uploading it. I'm still not really sure if I like it... =S I tried to work a little bit more on the plot and make it less of a PWP. And as you can see... it's not even complete yet, but it was turning a little bit too long so I uploaded the first part of it. It's not nearly as sad as the last part. =)

Again, rated M for some violence and very graphic sex.

I own nothing.

This is not WW2: Many things are derived from WW2 and the nazi concentrations camps of those times, but they are still very elaborated and absolutely not to be taken as WW2.

I apologize for all the mistakes... if you see any that repeat themselves over and over again, please tell me concretely.

At least thrice – or more

[Ludwig x Feliciano]

"Vee~ he's soo~ handsome! He's really, really tall, muscular, has beautiful blue eyes and beautiful blond hair. He used to slick it back when the war had just started, but I actually like it better when he keeps it natural. It makes him look so wild and…" at this Feliciano sighed and intertwined his fingers, bringing his hands up to his chest like the little love fool he was. The other Italian, who was lying right next to him with one arm folded under his head as a pillow-replacement, rolled his eyes mockingly.

"Oh god – German through and through …" he muttered.

"Yes! … you should hear when he talks – so cute! He has that accent which gives him that special charm that only German people have -"

"I HATE Germans!" Lovino harshly cut him off, making the auburn-brunette wince in surprise. "It's their entire fault if Italy has been involved in this fucking war! I still can't believe we sided up with them – I mean – SERIOUSLY!"

"… Lovii~ don't talk like that! Germany is doing really much to protect Italy!" he tried to defend his beloved's nationality.

"Then why the hell are we still kept prisoners in this shit place, can you explain it to me?"

There, Feliciano actually stayed quiet for some seconds. Why indeed? Why would nobody come for them? Why? They knew about the concentration camps, right? Why wouldn't they come and save them all, then?

"… They will come… someday." he murmured softly, feeling his eyes starting to well up with tears. He inconspicuously rubbed them dry and sniffled, then came back to their initial conversation topic.

"More important: what is yours like?"

"He's a damn bastard – that's what he's like! I've told him a thousand times that helping out fugitives and deserters was going to be the end for him!" the southern Italian growled angrily. "Such an idiot! He should have just stayed in Spain and minded his own business - nothing would have happened to him!"

"But you were one of those fugitives, too, right? He sounds like such a heroo~!"

"He's an idiot."

"How does he look like?" Feliciano asked enthusiastically, shifting a little bit closer to the other prisoner. Lovino thought about it for a moment, then started describing:

"Well, he's taller than me, but not that much... He's kind of skinny, but his body's well-toned all the same. He has a light tan, has those stupid shiny, green eyes I don't like at all and this stupid brown hair I don't like at all either! … HE IS NOTHING SPECIAL AND I DON'T MISS HIM AT ALL! …"

Feliciano gasped as the chocolate-brunette suddenly broke out in tears. He had hoped that talking about their beloved ones would help lift the mood a little, since they knew they were both alive and doing fine, just kept confined in the area of the camp for prominent prisoners. But it looked like he wasn't the only one missing Ludwig dearly.

"V-ve… L-Lovi…" he whispered and shifted even closer to the sobbing young man. He gently placed a hand onto his head and Lovino flinched, but didn't back away. He kept his face hidden behind his arms and cried bitterly, while Feliciano stroked his hair soothingly.

"D-don't be sad, Lovi. Isn't the most important thing that he's still alive?" he asked softly, holding his own tears back.

"I kn-know! But I just m-miss him so m-much!" the southern Italian replied in between sobs. "… Damn, w-would be t-too embarrassing if h-he saw me right n-now…" he then added and Feliciano couldn't help but giggle.

"You're so silly, Lovi!" he exclaimed and kissed his brow affectionately.

"Sh-shut up!" was the angered response, but the chocolate-brunette had already started calming down and he was leaning in, seeking more of that comforting touch.

"I'm pretty sure we will all be out of here soon. And then, I will be back with my Ludwig and you will be back with your Antonio. And you know what? We will go on a double date!"

"N-no way…!"

"Oh yes! Vee~ it would be too fun! We could go to a restau-"

"TIME TO SLEEP – SHUT THE HELL UP YOU ALL!" a voice in English startled him and interrupted his fantasizing chatter. The few prisoners around them that had been talking as well, stopped immediately and arranged for the night. The two of them did too.

"Good night, Lovi! Don't be sad." he whispered, kissing the other Italian's cheek. Lovino grumbled complainingly and vehemently tugged the sheet up to his chin. He fell asleep rather quickly and Feliciano was left with his own not too pleasant thoughts.

Half a year. They had been staying there for half a year, by then. And despite everything, Feliciano was finally doing fine. The bruises had decreased to a minimum, as he had started following obediently every one of the guards' orders. His cheeks had slightly rounded again and they wore a reassuring pinkish shade on them. He was doing fine, considering his circumstances.

The only thing out of order was the hollow-like feeling there, where his heart should have been. He missed Ludwig much, much more than he dared to let Lovino know. The slightly older youth had been brought to the camp some months ago and Feliciano had befriended him almost immediately after having heard of the similarity of their situation. Both Italians. Both homosexuals. Both their beloved ones kept inside a cell and out of their reach.

He wanted to be strong for his new friend. And for Ludwig… and also for himself. And he had indeed managed to return to his typical optimistic self. But sometimes optimism just wasn't enough and the stinging pain returned all at once, stronger than ever. Half a year… Did Ludwig even still think about him? Had he forgotten him? Was he doing fine? Was he cooperating? Questions over questions, and not a single one he could have an answer to. They had told him that he was still alive, but what if they had lied? No… no. They hadn't lied. That guard, at least, would not lie to him. They were… kind of friends after all, weren't they?

Even if he had started eating again – sleeping remained a difficult task, and one he couldn't do anything to improve in. That's why, that night as well, Feliciano barely managed to close an eye, turning and returning in his bunk.

The next day started as always at four o'clock in the morning. They washed themselves, had breakfast, cleansed their section of the barrack and then went outside for the morning roll call. Once everything was done, it was already six o'clock and they were assigned different tasks for the day. Feliciano had to work on the plantation and even though it was a rather exhausting job, he didn't complain.

The job itself wasn't really that bad. The exhausting part were the guards who constantly kept picking on him. They were obviously bored to death. Feliciano had been hoeing the ground, when a small group of French and English guards approached him, chuckling among themselves.

"This one is the little fag." one of the French ones said, pointing at him. The Italian hadn't understood what he had said, but he stopped working all the same, let the hoe fall to the ground and carefully took a step backwards.

"V-ve, m-may I help you, sirs?" he asked timorously, clutching the hem of his prisoner uniform shirt to hide that his hands were trembling.

"Does he only talk Italian?"

"Want to go down on me, queer?" another one asked in English, laughing loudly.

"What the fuck, are you a fag yourself to ask him something like that?"

"I was joking, man!"

More laughter. Feliciano watched as they started to shove each other playfully, hoping that they were just messing around and would leave him alone soon. But no such luck.

"Hey, Italian!" one of the guards called for him with French accent, gesturing for him to come closer. The poor brunette swallowed nervously and reluctantly approached the men, never raising his eyes. The guard didn't even have the time to say what he wanted to say, as one of the other Frenchman pushed Feliciano hard enough to make him fall into a mud hole. They busted into laughter again.

"Goddamn, Pierre, you're such a bloody asshole!"

The Italian tried to wipe away the dirt from his face, but he just managed to smudge it also over the parts of it that had been spared. He sniffled lightly, feeling his eyes starting to burn and his throat closing up. He was on the verge of tears. One would think that after being permanently treated that way you would end up getting used to it. Well, you never get used to it. He shifted in the mud, and struggled to stand up, as the now soaked clothes clung to his thin frame and dragged him down like plumb.

"What the fuck are you guys doing? Get the hell back to work, you fucking idiots! I'm the one guarding this part of the field!" a familiar voice shouted in French.

"Aw~ don't be a party killer, Francis!"

Feliciano kept his gaze lowered as the first tears trickled down his muddied cheeks. He listened to the guards having an argument, but after a while they eventually left.

"Are you alright?" the nice French guard asked him in Italian. The brunette nodded weakly and shifted uncomfortably. He wished he could change into his clean replacement uniform, but he knew that he'd have to work in those clothes for the rest of the day. And maybe he'd even get scolded for making them dirty…

"They are all idiots. Don't listen to them." the Frenchman continued, pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket's pocket and wiped the Italian's face with it. Once he was done, he lowered his hand to find the brunette smiling cutely at him.

"Vee~ thank you!" he chirped happily and made the guard blush in the process.

"Aah~ well, that's obvious, isn't it? It is moi, who has the rights over this part of the camp after all. Don't worry about them bothering you again, mon petit." the Frenchman said, grinning a little. Even though the nice Frenchman always had an eye on him – it still hadn't stopped the other guards from molesting the Italian every day. But at least it had kept them from seriously… hurting him. So Feliciano smiled politely. The smile faltered quickly, when he remembered what he had wanted to ask the man.

"S-sir?" he asked. "Sir, is Ludwig alright?"

The guard became serious as well and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"He is fine." he answered, after a moment of hesitation. The Italian didn't notice and just smiled again, this time wider.

"Veee~ I'm glad! What about Antonio, the hero Spaniard?"

"The what?"

"You know the Spaniard, who saved so many fugitives~!"

"Err… yeah, doing fine, too."

And this was everything Feliciano needed to know, to be happy.

Ludwig had tried to stay impassible – he really had. But after the twenty-first blow he had completely lost it.

He shouldn't have done it; he knew that very well also without the guards repeating it to him over and over again like he was a little bad-mannered kid. But he had wanted to do it. And now, his back was in shreds. So was his behind and so was the backside of his thighs. In shreds. Or at least it felt like it. When the next blow came, he howled loudly in pain, buckling against the whipping bench he was bent over. It was the only way to express his pain besides clenching his fists until they shook hard enough to make even the wooden trestle under him rattle. His arms and legs had been tied up, his clothes ripped off his body to expose his already tender skin. Each blow hit hard and caused the German to yell at the top of his lungs. When he wasn't yelling, he was releasing raspy pants and grunts through clenched teeth, his eyes tightly squeezed shut. The number "thirty" had never sounded so appealing to him like it did in that moment. Thirty. Only five left.

He howled loudly again, as the twenty-sixth blow hit him particularly hard in the sensitive back of his thigh.

"TWENTY-SIX!" he croaked out as loudly as he could.

The blows continued. And when the last one approached, he didn't even bother screaming in pain anymore.

"TWENTY-NINE!" he continued to count like he was forced to. One last blow. Only one…

"THIRTY!"

And never before, had he felt so good after having been punished. It was over. Thirty. Thirty blows to his back, behind and his thighs with a too well-known cane. His punishment had never been as harsh as this time. Five to ten blows had usually been enough to satisfy the enemies' sadism.

He sniffled and swallowed back his tears, trying to calm himself down. It's over, he repeated in his mind. The torture is over. His abused body throbbed. In some places, he could clearly feel the blood flow down. In others, he had just gone numb and couldn't feel anything at all. His arms and legs were finally unbound and he was allowed to stand up. But even though he was pushing against the whipping bench with his hands, he still kept lying. His arms were failing him.

The man with the cane helped him to stand up. He was neither particularly rough nor sympathetic. He acted like a man that had just done his job – nothing more, nothing less. Ludwig's clothes were shoved into his arms and he tried not to fall backwards as the slightest touch caused him to sway dangerously. Despite his misery, he pulled on his prisoner uniform, whimpering softly as the rather scratchy fabric stuck to his fresh wounds. It didn't matter, because now he could go back to his cell. He had never looked forward so much to being back inside that freaking two meters to two hole.

"You know why this had to be done, da?" the fair-haired man asked him in strangely accented English. Ludwig kept his gaze attached to the ground and nodded weakly. He knew why. And yet – he wouldn't change what he had done, could he go back in time.

"Very well. I will inform the superiors then."

The man made a little gesture with his head and two French guards approached Ludwig to lead him back to his cell. The German was glad, as he could barely walk on his own. Once he was standing inside the by now familiar small room, he trudged to the bed and let himself fall face down onto it. He flinched because of the sharp pain that shot through his body and then stayed immobile.

The punishment had been harsh, but not nearly as harsh as what the fucking guard had told him in the morning.

Your little friend sure sucks it right! And you should have seen how much he was enjoying doing it, man! Did he suck you off as well or is that a privilege only the guards get?

He could hear it inside his head over and over again. God, how much he had savored smashing his fist into that bastard's face. He hoped he had been just lying to piss him off. Because if he found out he was actually saying the truth – he wouldn't mind receiving fifty blows. He would fucking smash his head in. He knew he was not only risking his back, bottom and thighs behaving the way he did. He was risking his throat as well. But he couldn't hear that shit anymore. He recalled one last time how incredibly satisfying it had felt when his fist had collided with the bastard's nose, the incredibly appealing sound of his nose breaking. If only he had been able to kill him. He nibbled on his under lip at that thought. Yeah – if only he would have had the time to choke him until he had not one bit breath left in his fucking lungs. He would have enjoyed it so much… he was getting all giddy with pleasure just at the thought of it. He chuckled lowly, then froze.

My god, I'm turning into a monster… Feliciano wouldn't want this… he thought, horrified of himself.

A few hours later, he had a meeting with the same English officer as always. He hated him deeply and it was also deeply reciprocated. When they chained him up against the wall, he leaned heavily against his side, as his back was way too tender to put the slightest of weight on it. The Englishman was sitting at the desk, lazily swirling a spoon inside his cup of tea.

"Aah~ my favorite German in the world." he mumbled sarcastically, without raising his gaze. Ludwig just glared at the wall in front of himself. His wounds were still throbbing and had crusted up with the red-white striped uniform sticking to them. Every little movement ripped them open again and made him flinch in pain.

"I've heard we had some troubles today. Mind to explain to me what the bloody hell you were thinking when you punched that guard?"

"I hope he dies." the German whispered and chuckled bitterly.

"What did you say?" the officer asked menacingly. He had finally looked up and was now eying the chained prisoner with severity.

"He was begging for it."

The officer swiftly stood up and slowly approached Ludwig. Once he was directly in front of him, he grabbed his chin harshly and forced him to look into his eyes.

"You do realize in what kind of position you're in, right?" he asked, snarling lightly. The German wisely chose to hold his tongue and just nodded.

"Good boy." the Englishman muttered, releasing his face vehemently, almost slapping him in the process.

"About the German officer, who gave you those documents. Guess what? We found out who he is also without your help."

Ludwig's eyes widened slightly.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"This is not the name of the man, who gave me the envelopes." he lied quickly.

"It is not?"

They stayed in silence for a long time. The Englishman unhurriedly strolled back to his desk and took a seat, flinging his legs to rest on the wooden surface.

"Would it be the name of the man, who gave you the documents if I told you that you would be released of the cell and sent out to work on the camp, my German friend?" he asked, a smug smirk forming on his face.

Ludwig gasped loudly. Really? Was it that easy? No… no… he was playing with him. Wasn't he? … He would be able to be outside again – to see the sun for god's sake! To breathe fresh air… to work. To move!

And most of all… he would have a chance to see Feliciano again.

"Is this a sincere proposition?" he inquired with a hint of hope in his voice.

"Oh~ as sincere as my love for the Queen, my dear boy." the officer answered theatrically. "We don't need you around here anyway. You've done nothing but been a pain in the ass."

Gilbert had betrayed him by giving him those documents. He had told him the envelopes would cause him no trouble, after all. He deserved to be betrayed as well, didn't he? No… he didn't. He couldn't do this to the man… He still cared about him too much. … It hurt to think about betraying him, but the opportunity of being freed was way too tempting to let it slip. … Sorry, Gil… he thought, before answering:

"He was indeed the one giving me the envelopes. Once in Paris, I would have given them to the leader of the Italian mafia which is hiding somewhere there. I don't know anything else. I don't even know where they are hiding, I swear… they would have been the ones tracking me down. Please… please let me work on the camp… please…"

He was disgusted with himself. But it didn't matter. Because soon, he would see Feliciano again.

Days passed, and he was indeed moved from his cell to one of the barracks of the camp. The sun stung in his eyes, as he was dragged down there. The fresh air stung in his lungs. Walking such a distance pained his legs. Everything hurt, and yet – he had never felt happier in his life. He was out of that shit hole. He was free… Well, partially at least.

Now he just had to find Feliciano… then he could hold him in his arms again… Kiss him, tell him how much he had missed him and how much he still loved him even after all those months. Not one day had passed without imagining having the Italian back at his side.

He wondered briefly if Feliciano had ever thought about him during those months. How would he react when he saw him? Would he be as happy as he pictured him inside his head? Would he have gained some weight… become even thinner? Have fewer bruises on his face… more of them? Smile? Cry?

… Would he still love him?

He was put to work. He had to move bricks from one point of the camp to another. Kind of useless, but it was alright as a start. Bending down to pick the bricks up caused his crusted wounds to crack and rip open, but it didn't matter. He was way too happy to be outside to care about such things. This concentration camp was beautiful! There were actually some trees there! And a lot of people working around him. It was like heaven after the six months he had spent inside that dark cell alone. He didn't even mind when a guard shouted at him to stop grinning like a fucking idiot and work harder. He complied happily. His body hurt from the minimal effort of having to pick up bricks and walk around, but it was a good kind of pain. It was the kind that told you that you were starting to function like a normal human again. The kind that told you that you were rusted, but were going to be alright again soon.

Around lunch time, each prisoner received his meal in the "mensa" of the camp. He reasoned that this was probably his chance to find Feliciano, as they were all reunited in the same giant hall. He stormed through the prisoners like a maniac, his eyes darting over each person sitting around the tables in the room in the hope to find his little one.

And when his ears perceived one special voice – he froze.

"Vee~ the cooks here must be English, because the food really sucks!"

His heart started pounding almost painfully against his ribcage. Where? Where had that voice come from?

"FELICIANO!" he yelled, not caring that he was probably going to get in trouble with the guards if he kept this up.

He heard someone call his name. When he turned around, he couldn't believe his eyes. A moment, he just stayed like that. His eyes wide apart, his mouth ajar. Maybe it was only wishful thinking, but the blonde a few meters away from himself looked terribly alike to Ludwig. Terribly. He was skinnier than the German he reminded, had bad-looking dark circles under his eyes, but other than that, they really were the same. He started to shake uncontrollably and his heart threatened to explode inside his chest. He scrambled into a standing position and spun around.

"LUDWIG!" he screamed, a few tears he hadn't even been aware were there, trickling down his cheeks.

The blonde hastily looked in his direction and their eyes met. It was him. It really was. And he was glad that most of the prisoners were blocking their way, because otherwise he would have jumped at the German and kissed him right then, right there – in front of everybody, in front of all the guards. He sobbed loudly instead, because he didn't know that feeling too happy could hurt that much and he could see that Ludwig was crying, too.

"LUDWIG!" he screamed again, and the German finally struggled to move on through the crowd. Feliciano did as well, and they met midway. Once they had made it, they stood in front of each other, trembling and panting.

"Ludwig…!" the Italian blubbered out and went to hug the other young man, but the blonde quickly shook his head.

"The guards…" he whispered softly. And there wasn't any need to say anything else. The joyful and lovestruck expressions on their faces told enough without them speaking. Feliciano laughed, feeling silly and rubbed his face dry. Ludwig discretely grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. He wouldn't let go of it ever again.

"I'm here now."

"They placed me into barrack number thirteen."

"I'm in barrack number seven... you need to change to mine!"

"Is it possible to change?"

"I dunno, but we have to try… I know somebody, who might wanna help us!"

The Italian squeezed Ludwig's hand tighter and gently stroked the back of it with his thumb. It was evening. They had had to separate to go back to work after lunch and time had passed agonizingly slow. But it had eventually turned dark outside. The evening roll call had been done, dinner had been served. And then, it had been the time of the day, during which the guards didn't control too much what they were doing. Their free time.

The time they could be together. So they had sneaked out of their barracks and had hidden behind a row of trees and bushes, in the hope that the guards wouldn't find them. In one hour they would have to be back in their dormitory, but until then, they could be together. Together…

"Ludwig…" Feliciano whimpered softly and tugged at their intertwined hands to pull the German closer. The blonde, who was sitting right next to him, leaned over him and caressed his face tenderly.

"Ludwig, I've missed you so much… Every day… I've thought about you every day… I was so afraid that I would never see you again…" the Italian whispered, slowly closing the gap between them. He could feel the German's breath on his lips, so he licked them in anticipation.

"I have thought about you every day, too… and also every night. You were always on my mind." Ludwig answered in a low voice. He let his thumb glide over Feliciano's lower lip and his hand trembled lightly at how soft it was. The Italian looked so much better than the last time he had seen him. He couldn't tear his eyes off him, wanting to burn inside his brain every single bit of him. He leaned in and replaced the thumb with his lips. And kissing him felt like… like… like bliss. Their lips moved against each other, gently, almost timidly.

"At least thrice…" the German murmured and grinned weakly when their lips separated.

"At least thrice…!" Feliciano confirmed, reciprocating the grin more widely. But he turned serious again after a second. "B-but what if the guards…? I'm scared!"

"It needs to be quick and silent." were the instructions.

"A-alright…"

Ludwig kissed him again, with a little more pressure this time. It felt so good to kiss his little one again after all those terrible months spent apart. Altogether, it felt like a beautiful, surreal dream. They were together. They were both more or less fine. They were kissing…

"Mmmh…" Feliciano hummed, his hand crawling up Ludwig's torso to hook up behind his neck and pull him closer. He nibbled gently at the German's lower lip, who replied by shoving his tongue roughly into his mouth. The brunette didn't hesitate to answer the kiss just as hungrily. They were both trembling because of the built up longing they had been keeping inside themselves for the past half year. Their tongues stroked forcefully against each other, while their teeth nibbled and tugged gently at their respective lower lips. If they could have, they would have literally devoured each other. One of the German's hands slipped underneath Feliciano's shirt and caressed his soft skin tentatively. He started massaging his lower back and side, hoping that the Italian wouldn't want to do the same to him. He didn't know what he would tell him if he found out about… the wounds.

But Feliciano just whimpered softly and melted under his touch like butter would under the sun. Ludwig used his momentary distraction to pull him onto his lap, the way he was straddling his hips - his second hand soon following the first one underneath the brunette's shirt. Feliciano's hands found a place on the German's shoulders, where his fingers curled to get a firm hold of him.

"Ludwig… the guards…" he breathed, as their lips pulled apart for a second, before re-clashing against each other with even more fervor. The blonde caressed the quivering upper body for another while, playing with the hardened nubs, pinching them and brushing them teasingly with his fingertips. He then gently let his hands slip downwards and firmly grabbed Feliciano's hips, pushing him down, while he himself buckled, to grind their crotches together.

"Nhh.. ahh..." Feliciano moaned lightly into his mouth, interrupting the kiss and reaching up to bury his fingers between freshly cleaned, pale locks.

"I've missed you so much…" he repeated what he had already said before, whimpering softly as the German started to massage the bulge inside his red-white striped trousers. "… I've needed you so much…"

Ludwig stuffed his face into the crook of his neck and kissed the tender skin, licked it, sucked it and finally sank his teeth into it. Feliciano whined in painful pleasure and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The German's fingers hooked up underneath the elastic around the brunette's waist and pulled his pants down until they had reached the middle of thighs. He then lightly pushed off the ground and did the same to himself.

"This is going to hurt very much without preparation." he whispered, his voice thick with arousal.

"I don't really care right now." Feliciano replied, reaching down to wrap his fingers around the blonde's fully erect member and pump it with slow, stimulating strokes.

"You will care tomorrow when you stand up and try to walk." Ludwig chuckled lowly. Feliciano giggled as well and leaned in to peck the German's lips.

"I don't care. I'm just happy to have you back…"

Ludwig smiled fondly and caressed the Italian's buttocks with slow, enticing movements. He made sure to brush his entrance with his fingertips a few times, but never touched it directly. Feliciano started squirming on his lap, pushing his throbbing member against his abdomen to get at least a little bit of stimulation. The Italian's display of need, made the blonde become a little inpatient himself, so he spat into his hand before bringing it back to the other's bottom. He let his fingers circle around his entrance a few times, moistening it for good, before pushing two fingers in at the same time.

"AH! – ahh…" Feliciano gasped loudly, arching his back to get them deeper into himself. It stung a little, but strangely the pain just made him feel even more aroused. The two fingers found his prostrate immediately and started stimulating it right away, rubbing it, caressing it with circling motions and thrusting against it while moving gently back and forth.

"The guards…" Feliciano moaned out softly, leaning down to capture the blonde's lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. Reluctant to interrupt it, Ludwig pulled out his fingers of the brunette's hot hole and just smeared his precum over his member, hoping that the penetration wouldn't be all too painful. He firmly grabbed Feliciano's hips and positioned him onto himself, before slowly pushing against his entrance. It offered quite a bit of resistance, but when the Italian sat down onto it, his member slipped through the tight ring rather quickly and all at once.

"NNH! ... Hnngh.. Ahh… hh.." Feliciano groaned, interrupting their kiss. "It hurts…!"

"I told you.. it would.. hurt..." Ludwig answered in between raspy pants. "We need to be more silent… it's dangerous…" he then added, swallowing nervously.

"Ludwig… I'm glad you're back… I love you…" Feliciano breathed softly, hugging the German tightly and hiding his flushed face in his hair.

"I… love you … too…" the blonde barely managed to croak out, buckling his hips to get a taste of the coming session. Feliciano was so tight… and hot… and he still couldn't believe this was real life and not one of his pitiful dreams. He tenderly closed his arms around the brunette's waist and pushed up against him again, encouraging him to move, to do something.

Feliciano steadied himself by holding Ludwig's shoulders tightly and tentatively lifted himself up of the German's lap, feeling his thick member slip slightly out of him. He looked down because he kind of liked this position and stared at their unified bodies, before letting himself fall down again.

"Ohh... nnh… Ludwig…" he whimpered, as the German's manhood shoved itself deep into him again, hitting his prostrate in the process.

"Quiet… the guards…" Ludwig panted, tightening his grip around Feliciano's waist, lifting him up himself and re-pushing him down while simultaneously thrusting into him.

"L-Ludwig, I'm bleeding…" the Italian whispered, as he noticed the blood running down the inner side of his thigh. He didn't sound concerned, much to the German's surprise. More like… like it excited him. And that alone was reason enough to get even more aroused himself.

"I will… kiss it better… afterwards…" Ludwig spoke softly, meeting the brunette's movements every time he lowered himself onto him, impaling himself. At this Feliciano actually giggled a little, but the giggle was quick to turn into a throaty moan.

"Feli…ciano… the guards!" the blonde hissed warningly. The Italian bit his lower lip and continued to ride him, increasingly picking up speed. The harsh movements irritated and hurt the still tender flesh on Ludwig's backside and lower back, but strangely, in that situation, it didn't bother him too much. It felt kind of good. His arms released the brunette's waist and he took a hold of his buttocks instead, kneading them gently - trying to lead Feliciano's movements and make him slow down a little.

"I'm going to come…" he explained, as the Italian questioningly looked at him through half-lidded eyes. Feliciano nodded weakly and grasped his neglected member, starting to stroke himself at the rhythm of his riding. With both kind of pleasures combined, he felt himself approach climax quickly as well, and let Ludwig know it by whimpering in his ear more desperately. The blonde met his movements with more force and they came almost at the same time, their moans catching in their throats, as they couldn't be too loud. Feliciano slackened against the German and breathed heavily against his chest, until he felt he had enough force to push up one last time, the now softened member slipping out of him, while warm semen trickled down the inner side of his thighs to mix up with the blood there. Ludwig was still panting as well and once he could breathe normally again, he leaned in to tenderly kiss the Italian's lips.

"I'm glad... to have you back… Ludwig…" Feliciano whispered softly, caressing the other prisoner's face with his clean hand. The German smiled weakly and pulled him closer, squeezing him tightly against himself.

"Vee~ I'm so happy!"

"I'm happy too. Incredibly so." Ludwig mumbled against his neck, kissing it gently.

TBC...

Thanks for reading! Any suggestions on how it could continue? =) I already have a vague idea of how to continue, but I love to hear other people's opinions! x) Please let me know how you found this part, I had kind of trouble writing it...