Wayward Flute Lessons

"Alright, now you're doing it on purpose."

"I am not!" Gilbert protested, taking the flute away from his lips. "The stupid thing is squeaking on its own! It can't take my awesomeness."

Frederick rolled his eyes and came over. He restrained himself from snatching the flute from his hands and gently took it away instead. With the air of a virtuoso, he lifted the flute to his own lips and started to play, going up and down the notes in a perfect scale before handing the instrument back without a flourish. "It's fine," he said flatly.

"Is not," Gilbert huffed as he took it. He almost cringed under Fritz's intense and watchful eye and placed the flute to his lips, positioning it just like Fritz had taught him countless times. He took a deep breath and gently blew. There was a low "toooo" that filled the room for a second before it broke off with a squeak and became quiet. "Dammit!" the albino yelled, almost throwing the flute across the room when Fritz's glare froze him in place.

"You're doing something wrong," Fritz said, stating the obvious in a very matter-of-fact tone. He came closer, his sharp blue eyes narrowing to examine every minute detail about him. "Here, try again, but slower this time."

"Hmph," Prussia replied, adjusting the flute a little. "This thing just can't handle my awesome blowing powers."

How in the world he managed to say that with a straight face Frederick had no idea.  He watched as Gilbert managed to make another brief note before it was silenced again. "Your lips are wrong," he said a moment later. "You aren't pursing them enough. Only a tiny amount of air must escape."

Gilbert sighed loudly, his irritation getting the better of him. "Why are we even doing this?" he pouted. "It's not that important anyway."

Ah, this conversation again. "Because I asked you to, and you promised me that you would learn how to play this." Fritz replied and gently, but insistently, made him raise his hands again. "Now, again."

Gilbert let out another sigh, but complied wordlessly. But this time when he blew the flute made no sound at all except for rushing air. "You know what, just fuck it, I—"

"No," Fritz snapped, grabbing him by the arm as he tried to turn and walk away. "Stay here. You're letting your frustration get to you. Just take a few deep breaths and calm down." The scowl was still on Gilbert's face, and he patted his arm comfortingly. He knew that Gilbert hated failure, since failure was unawesome after all. "Don't fret, liebling, you can do it."

"Of course I can, I'm awesome," Gilbert replied, but he sounded bitter. "And you're not even explaining how to do it correctly. I'm either pursing my lips too little or too much and you're not telling me how to correct it."

The king pondered over that for a moment. Yes, he realized, that was indeed true. He had assumed that with Gilbert's knowledge of the violin then he would pick up the flute rather easily, but the flute and the violin were two completely different things. There was hardly a resemblance to how they were played, and he realized with a twinge of guilt that he had been rather neglectful on some of the simpler aspects of playing the instrument, and what was worse that he had been getting angry at Gilbert for something that wasn't entirely his fault. And it showed too, if the sour twist in Gilbert's mouth and his slumped shoulders were anything to go by. Fritz's expression softened. "It's a little like kissing," he said in the smoothest tone that he could muster. "You purse them just the slightest bit." He reached up and brought Gilbert's mouth down to his, giving him the most direct demonstration that he could think of. Their lips met for a brief moment, warm and soft, before Fritz pulled away. "Like that, but don't move them at all."

Gilbert chuckled, a smile tugging at his mouth now, and at Frederick's insistence he tried at his endeavor yet again. But this time the instrument made a steady, unbroken note that wasn't in the least it painful to hear. "Hah!" the soldier yelled victoriously. "I told ya' I could do it!"

"I never doubted you," Frederick said, smiling at him. "Now we can work on the actual notes."

"…What?" Gilbert demanded, his grin vanishing instantly. "We just spent ten minutes on learning how to blow the damn thing properly, what makes you think I can play a note?"

"Because you can play the violin, so it is possible for you to play an instrument," Fritz replied evenly. He gestured to the violin lying on a nearby desk, ignored up until this moment. "Come on, Gilbert, you are more than capable of doing this."

Gilbert puffed his cheeks out a little and didn't reply, but made no denial of it either. Fritz knew that his nation liked to prove himself capable of accomplishing anything simply because he was so awesome—which was how he managed to drag him into this in the first place—so he knew that he wouldn't give up any time soon. "You're holding it wrong," the monarch said after a long pause, moving on to the next part of his lesson. He reached out and started to adjust Gilbert's arm, then his fingers. "The fingering is wr—" he sighed and rolled his eyes as Gilbert burst into a sudden fit of laughter. "Yes, liebling, you were blowing and fingering it wrong." Instantly he shut up. Smirking, Frederick continued on as if nothing had happened, studiously ignoring the offended glare that was being thrown his way. However, he couldn't seem to get Gilbert's fingers right, no matter what he did they still looked off somehow. Then again he wasn't used to standing in front of a flute and trying to play it, so perhaps he had to look at it from a different angle.

Prussia raised an eyebrow as Fritz stepped behind him, then a squeak slipped out of him as Fritz put his arms around him and rested his chin on his shoulder so that he could see better. He felt his King's chest press against his back and his breath tickle his neck, raising goosebumps across his skin. Fritz's hands clasped around his own, the sensitive, delicate fingers curling over his. "Like this," Fritz said, gently easing his fingers around until they were perfect to his critical eye. "It's a good thing that you know violin, since you naturally touch your fingertips to the instrument and hold it very lightly."

Gilbert barely heard him, staring intently at his hands and feeling every rush of air that brushed across his skin and hair. Even that little contact was making his heart speed up and his body felt hyperaware wherever Fritz was touching it, noticing every single movement of his lover against him. He swallowed and tried to regain some coherency. "Why do you keep mentioning the violin?" he asked, managing to somehow keep his voice from shaking.

Fritz smiled, loving the slightly annoyed tone that was coming from his nation. Ever since he had learned that Prussia could play the violin (accidently, of course, since Prussia would have never told him) he had been remarking upon it constantly. "Because it's important," he said. "And I was absolutely delighted to learn that you can play an instrument." Actually that was a bit of an understatement, but he couldn't find the right words to properly express the pure joy he had felt when he had learned it. The very thought of it right now was making him ridiculously happy inside, more so than it really should have. "So you see, liebling, I am never going to stop talking about it. Ever."

He heard a loud groan that, for a moment, sent his mind straight into the gutter. "Dammit Fritz, why the h—" Prussia started and broke off as Fritz suddenly lifted his hands up; he missed the slight blush that had risen to his leader's face. He obediently positioned the flute and then blew, producing a steady note until his king changed his fingers around.

"This note is C," Frederick said to him when he was done. "I'm sure you remember the C major scale, and how easy it is to play it. To get to a D, you take this finger here—" he paused and then sighed in irritation. "Oh for heaven's sake, stop moving your arms! Keep this arm up—" he moved Gilbert's right arm "—and straighten your left wrist. Spread your legs a little too."

Normally Gilbert would have made some sort of perverted remark about that last line, but he was quickly growing tired of the constant prodding, no matter how much he liked the contact between them. "Stop it, I'm playing the thing just fine!" he snapped, waving Fritz's hand away. "If I'm doing well then it's not that big of a deal."

"What are you talking about? Posture is everything! Just because you play good doesn't mean you're perfect; when you have good posture then you can utilize your instrument to its fullest potential." Now in a proper tiff, he went and all but stomped over to the desk. Prussia just barely stopped himself from whining at the sudden loss of contact and dragging him back. Yet not a second later his smile returned as he watched his little King get all worked up, which was oddly cute in a way. Then his eyes traveled lower to where the skirts of Fritz's coat were turned back, giving him a magnificent view of his ass. All at once his smile turned into a lewd grin.

Totally unaware of the stare, Fritz picked up the violin and placed it on his collarbone. "You see, if I held my violin like this, with my wrist unstraightened and touching the instrument itself, then my fingers could not reach down far enough to play the full range of notes that the violin could achieve. Holding the bow in this manner here would mean that I could not control it as well as I could if I held it properly—" he turned as he was speaking and noticed Gilbert's distracted gaze. He frowned. "Are you listening to me?"

Gilbert gave him a charming grin that was full of mischief. "Of course," he said distantly, before lowering his eyes again.

"No you're not. You're staring at my ass."

Knowing that he had been caught, and not really caring either way, Gilbert shrugged. "It's a very nice ass," he said plainly, "it would be a shame not to pay attention to it."

Fritz's ears reddened and he had to fight down a smile. "Nevertheless, now is not the time," he said, pointing the bow at Gilbert's face so that he would look up. "I need you to pay attention."

The kingdom's grin had not vanished. "I'm afraid that's somewhat difficult when you're here, my King," he said, his eyelids lowering.

Damn, he was losing him. "But if I leave then you won't play at all," Fritz objected, putting the violin down and walking over to him. The smile he had been trying to hide was now on his face, but he was still being serious. "In order for you to learn I need to be here." Under other circumstances he would have loved all of the attention, but now he needed Gilbert's attention somewhere else.

"But you are quite distracting, schatzi," Gilbert replied, his gaze never wavering from his King's.

"Then I call upon you to exercise some control over your wandering eyes," Fritz replied, trying not to let himself be affected by the low tone his nation as now using on him. In a fit of spontaneity, he slipped behind Gilbert again and pressed himself closer, placing his hands over Gilbert's just as he had done a minute ago. "Just one scale for now," he said, his mouth right by Gilbert's ear.

It shot sparks all the way down to Gilbert's toes and he had to suppress a shudder of delight. He let Fritz maneuver him like a puppet, pressing his fingers up and down and naming each note as he did. It wasn't until Fritz murmured, "Now blow," into his ear that he was snapped out of his reverie. At first his mind went down a completely different path, then he realized what Fritz actually meant and blew into the flute. Again Frederick guided his fingers, and the two of them played a simple scale, the notes simply spiraling up and then down until they had come full circle. "See?" Fritz asked, the delight in his voice obvious. "I told you it was easy!" He laughed and hugged his kingdom around the waist, briefly nuzzling his cheek against Gilbert's.

Prussia laughed with him and felt a warmth uncoil within him as Fritz pulled him closer. "It was easy because I'm awesome like that," he said, reaching with one of his hands and running his fingers through Fritz's hair. "Does this mean we can take a break now?"

"We just got started, liebling," Fritz replied, leaning into the touch.

"Aww come on, a ten minute break?" Gilbert whined, tightening his grip in Fritz's hair and leaning back against him. "Five? I can already play a scale."

"With my help."

"I'll bet you I can without it."

"Fine then, show me," Fritz challenged, not relinquishing the grip he had around Gilbert's waist. The soldier cooperated enthusiastically, bringing himself back into a proper position and once more playing the flute. To Fritz's utter astonishment, he played it perfectly, not a single note out of place as he went up and back down as casually as if he had been doing it for years. "Have you been holding back on me?" he demanded as soon as Gilbert finished, his brows creasing into a frown.

"Maybe," Prussia said teasingly. The arms around him tightened, tacitly demanding an explanation. "Perhaps I like to tease you and watch you get all worked up. It's amusing." He whimpered as Fritz suddenly bit him on the ear. "Ow! What the hell?"

"Oh be quiet," Fritz replied irritably. "Well, since you apparently know more than I expected, we can try actual songs now."

The albino turned his head to him. "Really?" he asked. "It took all of my concentration just to play that scale! I can think of things that are so much more fun than this." He tapped the end of the flute against his lips, as if for emphasis.

"I think this is fun," Fritz said, his lips inches away from Gilbert's skin. He felt Gilbert wriggle against him and had to grip him tighter to stop himself from doing anything. He was about to tell Gilbert to get back to playing, but the words crashed right into a wall as the nation, without any warning, parted his lips and slid the end of the flute inside, pushing the shaft slowly into his mouth. A strangled noise escaped Fritz's throat and for a moment he felt uncomfortably hot and cold at the same time. What in the name of gods was Gilbert doing?! A part of him wanted to yell and snatch the instrument away from him and berate him for treating it in such a manner, but another part of him had him frozen to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.

Gilbert chuckled and slid the instrument out for a second, the end of it coated with his saliva. "This is more fun though," he said, his voice a low purr. He boldly locked eyes with Fritz and carefully placed the flute back in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip for a moment before taking it deeper, mimicking a fellatio. Frederick could see his jaw muscles working as he sucked and let it disappear further, until there was an obscenely wet noise as he started to swallow and oh dear god now he was deep throating his flute why he hell was he turned on by this? He watched as Gilbert's eyes drooped further, going to half-mast as his face relaxed, looking almost blissful as he continued to suck, watching his king's face the entire time. His movements increased, his hand drawing the instrument out and back in, working himself into a rhythm as if he were actually sucking on a man instead of an instrument.

Something in him snapped and he reached out and grabbed the flute, tightening his hand around it just above where it was coated with Gilbert's shiny spit and stopping the movements completely. The nation's eyes flickered open, his gaze glazed and distant as if he had just been awoken from some fantasy. "Stop that," Fritz whispered in his ear, his voice a low growl that made his toes curl. "It's unsanitary." He let Fritz take the flute away from him without a fuss and set it safely on the stand, and then he grabbed Fritz's hand and started to suck on his fingers instead, showing him exactly what he had been doing to his precious instrument a few seconds ago. Fritz gasped in surprise and bit down on the albino's neck without a second thought, listening to him groan in response. He worked his way up, nibbling along his neck and tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue, which made Gilbert whimper low in his throat. Instantly the monarch stepped back and grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning him around so he could lock them together in a fierce kiss. His hands grabbed him by his neck and snow white hair, forcing him to stay in place as he attacked his mouth with teeth and tongue; Gilbert reciprocated wholeheartedly, slipping his fingers into Frederick's waistcoat to pull him closer, pressing the entire length of their bodies together so his king could see just how damn aroused he had made himself with that little show.

Fritz stifled a gasp as he felt something poking into his hip. He resisted the urge to buck against him and pushed him back until he hit the table and almost knocked the violin off. Only then did he break his kiss. He leaned forward until his lips were once more by Gilbert's ear. "If I allow you this brief distraction," he said, letting his hands trail down to his chest as he spoke, "then will you promise to pay attention for the rest of the lesson?"

"Oh, absolutely," Gilbert replied, although he doubted that Fritz could have resisted him anyway, not with the way he was panting and letting his hands dip lower. "Promise." He gave a cheeky grin at that that was soon wiped away by another kiss.

"Good," Fritz said, nipping him on the lip before claiming his mouth again, his confident hands and eager tongue promising him a very welcoming distraction from the lesson that was supposed to be going on.