A Little Less Than Five Years Ago (Ant. & Lud., closed)

"Oh?" Ludwig asked. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with discussions of a religious nature. What exactly is the Pope advocating?"

Juan breathed heavily through his nostrils. "In short, he is fundamentalist. Jean Paul, his predecessor, was more liberal...and more beloved. He believes in moral absolutism. Aside from that, there are corollaries to this. He rejects condoms as effective AIDS prevention. He is heteronormative, I believe is the English word - men are men and women are women and anything else is an affront to God. He is a 'hate the sin, not the sinner' kind of homophobe, but he is still a homophobe. I will not be ashamed of how I feel because a man tells me God says it is wrong. If God truly believes it is wrong, I will go to hell for it. But I think if God created man in his own image, then either he makes mistakes when he makes men and women like me, who like our own gender, or there is no mistake, and there is no wrong in these feelings."

---

wheeee, rant. Stuff about Benedict is interpreted from his wiki page, and not as stringent a criticism as I would normally give. The Hitler Youth stuff about him is very misleading (not on the wiki page, just in general) - boys over 14 were required to join, and he skipped meetings when he could. He also pretty much went AWOL when he was eventually drafted into the military.

Ludwig nodded, his hands still working patiently. "I see."

As he concentrated, he found himself thinking back to the young man that he'd tracked down, replaying the scene in his mind's eye again and again.

The frantic pleas for Ludwig to leave him be, the panicked race in pouring rain to the edge of the cliff.

And then, the look in those brown eyes.

Calm.

Serene.

At total peace with himself and the world around him.

And then, he'd jumped.

What was it about the Division that had driven a man that Ludwig had never met to plummet to his death rather than return with him? Did Ludwig even want to know? If there had been a God, wouldn't he have saved the young man from dying?

He shook his head and continued working on Juan's back.

"You're awful quiet now, mi querido alemán pequeño. Something troubling you?" Juan hummed.

His back felt delightful. His muscles had softened to putty under Ludwig's fingers, and he hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks.

---

mi querido alemán pequeño - my little German dear/darling. I was going to use "love" but...*shrug* it didn't feel right.

"Just remembering a few things from work," Ludwig said calmly, his hands still working. Juan's body didn't feel as tense as it had been when he'd started, but it never hurt to keep working.

"Care to share, mi querido?" Juan asked, voice light and interested. His thoughts held a great deal more trepidation. Talking about Ludwig's work was something Juan tried to do as little as possible.

Ludwig hummed. "While I appreciate the offer, I'm afraid I must decline. I have submitted a report of what happened, and if the Division were to discover that I have been speaking to you about my assignments, the two of us would be in a great deal of trouble."

"Of course, mi querido," Juan demurred. "Are your arms tired yet? You've been at it for a while, no?"

---

mi querido - my dear

"A little, but I can keep going." He paused long enough to get more oil, rub it together to warm it, and reapply to Juan's back. "Patience is a virtue."

"You're not a machine, you know. I don't expect you to keep going until you drop." Juan turned over, so that Ludwig's hands were on his chest - for the moment, at least. His fingers curled gently around Ludwig's wrists and he brought Ludwig's left arm up to kiss the inside of the wrist.

Ludwig half-smiled, amused by the gesture. "Are you feeling more relaxed?" He sounded fairly sure of what answer he'd receive, but it helped to have confirmation.

"Mmm, yes," Juan hummed. "Now your hands are all greasy," he tsked. And, oh, again he thought of so many lewd comments, so many places he wanted those hands, and barely held back from wiggling his eyebrows and insinuating a few filthy things. He kissed the wrist again to stop himself, and then a little lick, just over the veins...a little nibble. Any minute he'd let go, really. Ludwig's pale skin bruised so beautifully, though.

Blue eyes narrowed. "Now would be a bad time to tell you that I'd rather get to know you better before we actually have sex, wouldn't it," he said dryly. He eased his wrist away from Juan's mouth, but didn't break the hold the Spaniard had on his hand.

"Ahhhh, mi querido, that was barely even foreplay," Juan teased, grinning. "And you don't need to tell me...you already have." He frowned when he realized that wasn't terribly clear. "In the past, not a vision. In my visions, you are much more pliable." He grinned again. "And trust me, that's making it harder to wait, not easier."

Ludwig hmphed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I see." He paused before adding, "You do realize you're getting oil on your bed, don't you?"

With a look of pure mischief, Juan swiped up the runoff and smeared it on Ludwig's cheek. "It washes off. Won't even stain."

"That may be," Ludwig said, wincing away from the smear a bit too late, "but having to wash your sheets would be inconvenient."

He realized that what he just said could be taken a different way, also a bit too late, and blushed furiously. "I didn't mean it like that, however."

"Freud was one of your people, wasn't he - oh, no, Austria, it was. Regardless, I believe that is a kind of Freudian slip I'm not too pleased to hear. Washing sheets is a mild inconvenience when compared to the pleasure usually had in getting them dirty."

"I'm sure," Ludwig replied. Wiping his cheek, he added, "I realize that at some point, we may have a more physical relationship than we do now--" He shot Juan a look that said to keep his remarks to himself, at least until he was finished, "--but it isn't so easy for me to have sex with someone. Call it what you will, but I'm having trouble overcoming the fact that I want the first person with whom I share that side of me to be someone I'm deeply in love with."

"Ahhh, querido, of course I understand. I was sixteen before I changed my mind about waiting 'til marriage. But I suppose the real problem is not knowing what your boundaries are, comprende? Last time you stay here, we have a very nice time, I try not to push too far. Now, here, you do these things, I push a little more. And it's a little terrifying, a little exciting, not knowing if the next push will be enough to push you away. What I mean to ask is...tell me. Tell me what I can get away with. Tell me when you're not comfortable. Also - you might want to keep in mind that saving your first time isn't always so romantic. First times are messy and uncomfortable. It can be sweet, I am told." He shrugged. "Mine, I think I meet a nice boy I can stay with a while, at least." He drew a deep shuddering breath and hugged his own chest. "It was not so bad, a little pain, but mostly fun. He was beaten to death by tourists." He tapped his head. "And I watched."

---

what the shit. I'm sorry I keep abusing you Juantoniooooo ;_______;

Ludwig's jaw didn't clench, but it was close. "I'm sorry," he murmured gently.

Not quite sure if he should avoid the subject, or continue on with it when Juan himself seemed uncomfortable with it, the German figured that he could try to gently avoid the topic, and if the other man wanted to talk about it, he could do so when it suited him.

"As for my own boundaries..." His voice trailed off for a moment before he shook his head. "How can tell you where my boundaries are if I myself don't know them? I know I'm not ready for such--" He blushed vividly. "--intimacy yet, but I'm not sure what else I can definitely say will or won't be permissible."

"Then you tell me when you do find them," Juan shrugged. "Just try not to get offended if it's only the first time I push like that." He kissed Ludwig's cheek. "And don't be sorry about thing you can't control. It makes you look less sincere when you apologize for the things you can control, for the mistakes you've actually made. He was a sweet boy and losing him meant losing my faith in a lot of things." He touched Ludwig's jaw tenderly. "You helped restore that faith - in tourists, at least in part. I know it's not quite the same, since you were here on business, but..." he shrugged. "You're a good man, here," he tapped Ludwig's chest. "You remind me that there are good men still."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I stopped making sense a while ago, I think."

"I wish my massage could be the reason for your incoherence," Ludwig said, a small smile tugging at his lips, "but I'm guessing that dealing with your mother is draining?"

"The massage is definitely a contributing factor, but...no, my mother..." Juan shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Yes. It's very tiring. And if my grasp of Spanish slips when I'm tired, it's nothing to what exhaustion does to my English."

Ludwig's smile grew. "Is there anything I can do to help your coherence return? Or do you need some rest?"