Wide, bright blue eyes stared up towards the ceiling, focusing on the bland cement walls and trying to detach from his body. He tried to go away, to a place safe in his mind where Gilbert couldn’t reach him, but suddenly Ivan’s smiling face was hanging over him. The large Russian had slipped from his seat to crouch near Ludwig’s head, staring into his eyes with unhidden pleasure. The fucker was getting off on watching his brother abuse him.
Ludwig had almost decided to break his self-imposed vow of silence and tell Ivan to fuck off when a sudden pain cracked over his spine. No matter how badly he wanted to, Ludwig would not cry out, he would not voice the unbearable pain of his brother’s assault. Hit after hit to his back and ass made his body twitch violently but he refused to cry out, eyes squeezing shut so he didn’t have to witness the joy, the spark of pleasure that would shoot through Ivan’s eyes with each twitch and cringe.
“West, you’re not being any fun.” Gilbert mumbled, “But I guess it’s okay. After all, we’re doing all of this for you, so your people don’t hate you in the end when we’re one.”
Ludwig wanted to ask his brother what the fuck had given him such ridiculous ideas. What in the hell possessed him to believe that he wanted to join their socialist regime, to make Ivan, of all nations, that much stronger. But he would hold his tongue, not struggle, not fight; that was exactly what Gilbert wanted and he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
At least not until he heard the telltale sound of a zipper being lowered.
A clatter shortly after signaled Gilbert was done beating his brother with the cane, but Ludwig’s unease didn’t diminish. He began struggling again, trying to squirm away from his lunatic brother but finding it impossible the way he was bound. He managed to rise to his knees and scoot forward some inches but had completely forgotten about the Russian in their company. At least until he felt a hand much larger than his brother’s on his shoulder, holding him in place.
“Do not be leaving yet, Germany; your brother still has something he wants to give you.” Ivan’s sweet voice assaulted Ludwig’s ears, made him cringe and shake his head, ignoring the pain spreading from each individual wound on his face.
“Brother, don’t do this.” He choked out when he felt Gilbert’s hands on his hips. He was ignored, of course—after all, Ludwig was only fighting back to save face.
“Gilbert, please! Stop this ridiculousness!” his voice was hoarse, wet from the blood he repeatedly spat out just to breathe. “Please!” he cried, louder, when one hand snaked beneath him, wrapping around his softened cock again. He shuddered as he was gently brought to full arousal again, and then began struggling anew when he heard Gilbert speak.
“Ivan. Would you mind handing me the cock ring I brought?”
Again Ivan hesitated, really rather liking his current position in all of this, but he rose to fetch it—after all, he was only observing, only a witness to assure the world that Ludwig did fight. He returned with the ring in hand, examining it a moment before handing it over to Gilbert, tilting his head to the side.
“Clever Comrade. If he does not finish he did not enjoy it, da?”
Gilbert looked up and nodded, “Ja.” He then bent down over his brother’s body to whisper sweetly against his ear, “We’ll have all the time in the world to play after we’re finished, West.” The hand returned to stroke him a few more times and Ludwig shuddered rather obediently with every move of his brother’s hand. He cringed when the ring slid down over his length and was fastened in place, a low whimper spilling from his chest.
“Gilbert, Bruder, please stop this. Don’t do this.” He tried again, but Gilbert knew it was only an act and would do no such thing. It was just an act so that they could be together.
The heavy weight of his brother’s cock rested on Ludwig’s ass and he began to struggle again. Violence was one thing, violence and torture he could handle. He could deal with the scars and the aches that would likely follow him for years. But being raped by his own brother? His brother whom he had loved more than anything before… Before Ivan managed to get a hold of him. Before he changed.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Wanting Prussia ( 4/5 )
(Anonymous) 2011-03-28 04:26 am (UTC)(link)Ludwig had almost decided to break his self-imposed vow of silence and tell Ivan to fuck off when a sudden pain cracked over his spine. No matter how badly he wanted to, Ludwig would not cry out, he would not voice the unbearable pain of his brother’s assault. Hit after hit to his back and ass made his body twitch violently but he refused to cry out, eyes squeezing shut so he didn’t have to witness the joy, the spark of pleasure that would shoot through Ivan’s eyes with each twitch and cringe.
“West, you’re not being any fun.” Gilbert mumbled, “But I guess it’s okay. After all, we’re doing all of this for you, so your people don’t hate you in the end when we’re one.”
Ludwig wanted to ask his brother what the fuck had given him such ridiculous ideas. What in the hell possessed him to believe that he wanted to join their socialist regime, to make Ivan, of all nations, that much stronger. But he would hold his tongue, not struggle, not fight; that was exactly what Gilbert wanted and he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
At least not until he heard the telltale sound of a zipper being lowered.
A clatter shortly after signaled Gilbert was done beating his brother with the cane, but Ludwig’s unease didn’t diminish. He began struggling again, trying to squirm away from his lunatic brother but finding it impossible the way he was bound. He managed to rise to his knees and scoot forward some inches but had completely forgotten about the Russian in their company. At least until he felt a hand much larger than his brother’s on his shoulder, holding him in place.
“Do not be leaving yet, Germany; your brother still has something he wants to give you.” Ivan’s sweet voice assaulted Ludwig’s ears, made him cringe and shake his head, ignoring the pain spreading from each individual wound on his face.
“Brother, don’t do this.” He choked out when he felt Gilbert’s hands on his hips. He was ignored, of course—after all, Ludwig was only fighting back to save face.
“Gilbert, please! Stop this ridiculousness!” his voice was hoarse, wet from the blood he repeatedly spat out just to breathe. “Please!” he cried, louder, when one hand snaked beneath him, wrapping around his softened cock again. He shuddered as he was gently brought to full arousal again, and then began struggling anew when he heard Gilbert speak.
“Ivan. Would you mind handing me the cock ring I brought?”
Again Ivan hesitated, really rather liking his current position in all of this, but he rose to fetch it—after all, he was only observing, only a witness to assure the world that Ludwig did fight. He returned with the ring in hand, examining it a moment before handing it over to Gilbert, tilting his head to the side.
“Clever Comrade. If he does not finish he did not enjoy it, da?”
Gilbert looked up and nodded, “Ja.” He then bent down over his brother’s body to whisper sweetly against his ear, “We’ll have all the time in the world to play after we’re finished, West.” The hand returned to stroke him a few more times and Ludwig shuddered rather obediently with every move of his brother’s hand. He cringed when the ring slid down over his length and was fastened in place, a low whimper spilling from his chest.
“Gilbert, Bruder, please stop this. Don’t do this.” He tried again, but Gilbert knew it was only an act and would do no such thing. It was just an act so that they could be together.
The heavy weight of his brother’s cock rested on Ludwig’s ass and he began to struggle again. Violence was one thing, violence and torture he could handle. He could deal with the scars and the aches that would likely follow him for years. But being raped by his own brother? His brother whom he had loved more than anything before… Before Ivan managed to get a hold of him. Before he changed.