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"Ludwig," Feliciano says when they climb into bed. "Ludwig," he says again between kisses, pulling back more than he needs to for breath, enough for eye contact. He smiles when Ludwig looks at him; he smiles even though Ludwig doesn't. "Do you fancy a game tonight?"
Ludwig's brow quirks up. "Does it involve food?"
There's a move Feliciano does with his tongue sometimes that in his head he calls fusilli, but he's pretty sure that doesn't count. "No."
Ludwig holds the gaze for another silent moment; Feliciano smiles into the gaze, the moment. Then Ludwig's chest rises and falls in what seems to be a sigh, though he doesn't let it escape his lips. "All right," he says.
Beaming, Feliciano pushes Ludwig onto his back as he sits up, swinging over a leg to straddle him. Taking Ludwig's hands by the wrists, he leans forward and curves Ludwig's arms back toward the headboard. The brow quirks again, but after a moment and without being told, Ludwig curls his fingers around the slats. Feliciano sits back, settling himself on Ludwig's abdomen, feeling the swell of breath between his thighs.
"As long as both hands stay on the headboard," Feliciano explains, "I have to do whatever you ask.
"If I'm able to do something so wonderful that one of your hands comes off the headboard, I don't have to do what you say anymore—but I can't do anything you say no to.
"If I'm able to get both your hands off the headboard." Feliciano flashes a grin in the pause for effect. "Then I can do whatever I want." The grin opens, curving up more. "Anything I want."
Ludwig, of course, does not grin. But there's a glint in his eyes that makes Feliciano's toes curl. "All right." Ludwig adjusts his grip on the brass slats. "Let's start with fellatio."
He parts his legs and Feliciano shifts back to lie between them. Curling his hand around the base of Ludwig's cock, Feliciano first kisses the head, then licks the length before swallowing it as Ludwig directs, sucking and sucking and sucking, going breathless sucking, until Ludwig comes down his throat. A single husky word of praise drips from Ludwig's lips. Keeping Ludwig in his mouth as he goes soft, Feliciano smiles.
When Ludwig says, "Lower," Feliciano releases him and slides back so he can move to Ludwig's balls. He hovers, painting breath on the tender flesh, inhaling the musk. He hovers until Ludwig says, "Mouth them." And Feliciano does, brushing his lips against them, parting to breathe them in, drawing them into his mouth with gentle suction, lips still moving, tongue moving too in tender little licks. When he hears the moan from Ludwig's mouth, inarticulate but communicating more to him than words could, Feliciano almost smiles around Ludwig's sac: the first hand will soon be his.
A moment later it's in his hair, not asking for more, not asking anything, just burrowing into the softness.
Ludwig chokes a sigh at the loss when Feliciano raises his head. Smiling, Feliciano acknowledges the fingers in his hair with a touch, briefly resting his fingertips on Ludwig's knuckles as he says, "May I go lower?"
"Yes." Something more than permission, something that almost could be a smile rests at the corners of Ludwig's mouth.
As he moves farther back on the bed, Feliciano has a moment of regret for not thinking to ask to kiss Ludwig's cock, already swelling and darkening with blood again. But he doesn't want to break his rhythm, so he slides all the way back between Ludwig's legs until his own go over the edge of the bed and his feet touch the floor. Mischief flashes across his lips as he dips his head to press a kiss to the inner spur of Ludwig's ankle. He hears a low rumble, but by the time he looks up, all traces of laughter are gone from Ludwig's face. Feliciano grins at him anyhow before going down to kiss the other ankle.
With Ludwig's permission, Feliciano makes his way back up Ludwig's legs, kiss by kiss, until he reaches their joining. One hand on each thigh, he applies enough pressure to suggest what he wants and Ludwig spreads wider for him. "May I kiss you there?"
Ludwig's breath plays heavy over his lips. The backdraft coaxes out a slivered smile. "Where?"
Feliciano presses his middle and forefinger to his mouth. Touching the kissed fingertips to opposite sides of Ludwig's hole, he smiles: "Here."
Ludwig has to lick his lower lip before the path is slick enough for his "yes" to slide out.
Lowering himself to his belly again, Feliciano takes a moment to smile at the fingers of Ludwig's one hand re-threading into his hair. Then his smile and kiss meet each other as he puts his mouth to Ludwig. He circles with the tip of his tongue, drags the flat across, presses the pucker of his lips to the pucker of Ludwig's hole.
He comes up for breath and for another request: "Lick this for me?" He offers his finger and Ludwig moves forward for it. As he suckles, Feliciano lets his gaze drift from Ludwig's face to Ludwig's hand, white-knuckled around the headboard's bar.
With a sigh at the pleasant scrape of teeth along the underside and the gorgeous wet softness inside Ludwig's mouth, Feliciano drags his finger free.
And then he pushes into a new gorgeosity, just the tip of his finger inside Ludwig, not pushing any more, just slip-twisting. He bends to lick his finger; keeps licking as he withdraws it, and now it is just his tongue slip-twisting, licking, tonguefucking Ludwig.
And then both of Ludwig's hands are in Feliciano's hair.
The hands fall from him as Feliciano sits up. Ludwig is arching and yielding and open, his body open, his mouth open, his eyes closed. Feliciano takes a moment to memorize the lovesomeness of this moment, the utter loveliness of Ludwig in this moment.
Ludwig's eyes open when Feliciano touches the head of his cock to Ludwig's entrance. They pause time, looking at each other across the space of the gaze in the stilled moment.
Then Ludwig's mouth quirks up on the one side again, but he doesn't say no. He can't: there are rules, and they both know how Ludwig believes in following rules.
Feliciano doesn't push in. He takes Ludwig's right hand and curls Ludwig's fingers back around the bars of the headboard. His fingertips linger as he does the same with Ludwig's left hand before sitting back.
They look at each other.
"Rules of the game, Ludwig," Feliciano says. "You have all control again."
"Rules of the game," Ludwig agrees. He is the one to smile now, with open eyes and heavy-breathed open mouth: "Fuck me, Feliciano."
And Feliciano, open-eyed, open-mouthed, open-hearted, does.