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Italy walked down the halls that seemed to stretch on forever and forever until the end of time. He had a solemn expression on his face- which was extremely unusual. Italy did cry a lot but he never appeared...numb. At least not to the naked eye.
His footsteps echoed throughout the empty building as lightning crashed down around it, occasionally lighting up the otherwise dark hallway. Italy didn't know why he felt strange today. But his stomach uncomfortably churned with everything he did wrong. He could be sick, maybe. Even the unruly curl on the side of Italy's hair looked sad.
He naturally found himself walking to Germany's office for comfort, even if he wasn't there. He bothered Germany so much in there that it became sort of a comfort place for him, or rather one is he familiar with. He found his feet guiding him rather than him guiding his feet.
He swung the door open, the door hinges creaked as if they were in pain. It made Italy cringe. All was going well, until Italy caught sight of Germany standing up, his body partially turned to the window behind the desk. He was shirtless, a white button up shirt in his hand that had a large, brown stain. The lightning from outside flashed, enhancing the shape of his flexing muscles and impressive build overall. It made Italy's heart flutter, and for a second-a millisecond- Italy's heart pounded in his ears. His temperature spiked up, sweat already forming on his neck. "Germany! Sorry." Italy looked away, the darkness of the room hiding his flushed look.
"Oh hey Italy." Germany greeted, rather awkwardly. Italy tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he stared at Germany's chest, it was plump and Italy needed to-
Germany quickly tugged his shirt back over his head, buttoning a few buttons before directing his attention to Italy. "I spilled coffee on myself. You can come in I just finished up because it is 18.00 now."
Italy inched into the room, the door slamming shut..maybe from a gust of wind. "Hey Germany." Italy properly greets, smiling as if his heart doesn't metaphorically hurt. "This gloomy weather sure is effective." Italy approached Germany closer, his wandering eyes naturally taking in the sight of Germany...who was always so handsome.
"Yes I suppose it is. I was very tired today." Germany stared back at Italy, waiting for a strange, nonsensical response like usual. But he doesn't get any. "Italy? What is the matter?"
Italy reaches out and twirls the strand of hair that sticks out. It must not have been slicked back properly. He flattens his palm and slides it over Germany's hair, keeping his hair together.
It felt awkward. At least for Germany. It felt like he was a dog being pet! It brought nothing but embarrassment upon him. He turned his head away, ears lined with a red tint. He cleared his throat, organizing the loose papers on his desk. As he was organizing, he saw a photograph of Italy peering through some documents. He panicked and quickly hid it. "I-I guess I'll see you later if you have nothing more to say."
The both of them knew the air was awkward. It wasn't achingly tense, nor light-hearted. It was awkward. And that's far worse than anything in their view.
Everyone else but Germany and Italy knew they had feelings for each other, ones that are reciprocated. They really are just oblivious fools.
"Germany what are you working on? You seem more busier than lately. We haven't done training in a week- or is that because of the rain?" Italy rambled on, bombarding Germany with multiple topics to speak on. This was more how Italy acted around Germany..it cleared up the both of their heads in the slightest.
"It is nothing entertaining to you...I suppose I have a few more things to fill out if you wish to stay- but I only have one chair." Germany said rather shyly, it made the corner of Italy's lips twitch, holding back a smile. Italy rounded Germany's desk and sat on the floor to the right of Germany.
"Italy? Hey get off the floor dummkopf!" Germany flinched back and swatted Italy on the head. "It's dirty.." Germany cleared his throat, directing his attention back to the current task at hand. "Oh it's whatever! One time I didn't take a shower for a whole week!" Italy exclaims as if it's something he's immensely proud of. Germany just stared at the man with a dumbfounded look, shifting away from him. Disgusting...is what the look on Germany's face said.
Italy clung to Germany's leg, wrapping his arms around it. "I'll just sit here, no problem." Germany looked down at him, they glared into one another's eyes. Germany wanted to look away but Italy's eyes felt so hypnotizing, he didn't want to anymore. "Go ahead, Italy." He sighed as if it bothered him- but it didn't in the slightest. If anything his head felt lighter with Italy's presence.
Settling down, Italy kept his arms wrapped tight around Germany's legs, resting his head on the man's leg. The soft rustling of untamed hair sliding against clothes is the only thing they could hear, excluding Germany's unsteady, shaky breaths. His heart rate picked up, of course he didn't know why at first but then he looked at Italy's beautiful resting face. His features that seemed to be carefully crafted by an artisan were lit up by the raging lightning outside. Germany looked closely this time, admiring him now that he didn't have to worry about Italy's prying eyes that seemed to search his soul. His heart became warmer despite the cold drafts flowing throughout the room.
Italy sure seemed to nod away quickly, it had only been a minute of Germany pretending to do work before he drifted into sleep, his head rest against Germany's knee. The taller one of the two placed a rather large hand on Italy's head, it fit perfectly. He tenderly caressed his head, his gloves rubbing against the man's auburn-ish hair.
Per usual, Germany's heart pounded and his face was as flushed as the tomatoes Italy cooks with. After all this was only something romantics did, Germany wasn't romantic; not even a bit. He didn't know what he was doing, he only knew he wanted to feel Italy and trace his finger across every crevice of him--wanting to know him from the inside out.
For the next couple minutes, Italy slept peacefully as Germany stared off into space. He didn't bother with any more of his workload when Italy was this close to him. It felt so good--it was so warm and was as if any stress in his life dissipated, only to be replaced by a field of bright, yellow flowers. Germany pulled his hand away before he became too addicted, he was being selfish.
He slid out from under his desk, the worn-down wooden chair legs screeching against the floor. He winced internally, trying to not wake Italy. He stacked the papers on his desk and neatly arranged it for the next day. He took deliberate, slow steps to the door, wondering if he should wake Italy. He decided against it, bowing his head as he placed his hand on the door handle.
"Germany?" Italy softly called out amongst the booming thunder. His voice laced with such a sweetness that was unhealthy. Germany turned around, his figure hidden in the dark. "Yes?" He said lowly.
"Are you leaving already?"
"I was about to...Ja." He removes his hand from the door, the handle popped back into place.
"Stay." Italy begged, borderline desperate. He stood up and straightened out his wrinkled clothes.
That voice. Germany couldn't say no, Italy needed him and he reveled in the idea of being needed. It was so seducing Germany distantly wondered if Italy was doing this on purpose. "I should get going, I have stuff to do at home." He reluctantly refused, his eyebrows twitching. Oh how did he want to stay and hold Italy, he wanted to stay forever.
Germany hasn't felt like this in his whole life, but it seems everyone can hold greed; even a man who didn't care for what he once thought was trivial.
"Let me come with." Italy ambled closer, their proximity increasing. Soon enough Italy could feel Germany's breath on his face. It was suffocating in the best way possible. "I'm not stopping you...komm mit mir." And with that Germany left his office for the first time that day, Italy trailed along; afraid he'll lose sight of Germany.
The walk to Germany's place was filled with deafening silence and aggressive rain, it bothered him. Italy is always so talkative, what was different today? He needed to know. After a long moment of silence, the both of them entered the German's home. Italy has been here countless times, but this time felt more personal. Like he was seeing more of Germany despite nothing changing, he felt he belonged here or if not, that he needed to be here at this very moment.
They were drenched.
Rain water dripped down from their clothes and onto the floor, some spots glazed over with a thin sheet of rain. "Italy, you can go ahead and shower." He suggested, quietly. He diverted his gaze from Italy's figure, which was tightly wrapped in a soaked, white button-up shirt. Meaning...Germany doesn't need to imagine anything. He easily became flustered, but he could blame it on the rain this time at least. "I'll be quick Germany!"
Italy darted to the bathroom in an attempt to compose himself, that and because he didn't want Germany to see just how much he's affecting him. He hunched over the counter, his heart thumping faster than a race horse. All he could think about was back at the office, when Germany thought he was asleep and practically pet him for five minutes. It had been beyond warm, the feeling of Germany's rough fingertips threading in and out of each strand, scratching his head tenderly. He wished for more, begged for more. And now, the sight of Germany's blonde hair dripping with water and sticking to his face...it didn't help.
Shaking himself out of a trance, he twisted the shower on, cold water came gushing out of the shower head, soon becoming warm. He peeled off his sticky clothes, tossing them on the floor with a quiet 'plap'. Stepping into the shower, he let the pleasant water run down his body. He sighed in content, today had been leisure and he wasn't yelled at for the first time in forever.
He tilt his head back--massaging the water into his neck--moaning softly. He spent about twenty minutes in there, however, it was worth it because when he stepped out his head was clear and his heart no longer pounded like it was trying to escape. Still, he couldn't help but dwell upon the drug which was Germany's tender touch. He must let it go for now. Sauntering back into the living room, he saw Germany lying on the couch, dressed in new clothes and dry hair. The dark grey tank-top he wore showcased his muscles and Italy couldn't keep his eyes off of his arms, he wanted to feel him up; and maybe Germany wanted too as well. "Did you not take a shower?" Italy curiously asked. "Ja...I was tired." Germany responded, slouching against his couch.
The shorter of the two shifted closer discreetly--or that's what he thought at least. Germany noticed his somewhat odd behaviors. "Italy...we should take a siesta after dinner, Ja?" In response, Italy beamed; Germany never requested they take a nap as he was always against it.
"I want to help cook! Pasta! Please can I make pasta? Please!" Italy begged, naturally leaning in closer to Germany; he was so focused on pasta he didn't even realize the faint tint of red that crawled up the blonde man's face. He was practically bouncing on his feet despite not standing. "Okay...go for it. Just don't make a mess."
Germany watched from the couch as Italy waddled into the kitchen, already emanating a joyful warmth. No matter what Germany still couldn't understand Italy, he always seemed like he was planning something- even if he was he'd be too heedless to carry it out. Italy, already being experienced with cooking--specifically with pasta--had moved around the kitchen with ease as if he could do this with his eyes closed.
Despite Italy's spineless promise, he did in fact make a mess in the kitchen. As a result, Germany couldn't help but scrub all the dirty spots caused by the Italian. Italy paused, looking down at the German next to him scrubbing like his name was Mr. Clean. Germany avoided his gaze. "Don't mind me..." He muttered, moving back into the living room.
Italy must have been ravenous, because by the time they finished, his plate was licked clean. And by the look in his eyes, he still wanted more food. Seriously how can one be so gluttonous? Out of generosity--and not hospitality--Germany took the both of their plates and washed them thoroughly. By the time he went back to the table, Italy was passed out with his head tilted back and mouth open. If he looked closer he might've been able to see a snot bubble in Italy's nose.
He sighed, feeling inconvenienced. Despite his silent complaints, he squatted down and picked Italy up, throwing him over his shoulder with a soft grunt. Treading up the stairs with heavy feet must have made Italy stir in his sleep, because when Germany carefully set him down on his bed Italy sweetly called out like an addicting symphony.
"Germany..?" Italy voiced, feebly swaying from side to side on the edge of the bed. Germany--who was undoing his slicked-back hair--spun around, shifting his feet. "You're awake now." He pointed out as he placed his eye contacts on the dark-wooden dresser. He inched over to the side of the bed, leaning down to meet Italy. "What is it?" He questioned.
"Can I really sleep in your bed this time?" Typically, Germany didn't let him and most of the time he didn't even know Italy did sleep in his bed. Most days he would wake up and Italy would be under the covers sleeping soundly. "You're asking now? You never asked the first one-hundred times." He exaggerated, rounding the end of the bed and climbing into the left side, the side of the bed dipping beneath his weight. The shuffling of sheets being pulled over him caught Italy's attention. He seemed to be in a tired daze.
"Ve~ you're right. Buonanotte!" Italy pulled the covers fully over his body. Falling into a slumber almost instantaneously.
However, Germany couldn't sleep.
No matter how much he tried, their proximity made his heart thump and armpits sweat. How could he possibly sleep in these conditions! The belligerent and persistent rain thumping against his windows didn't help either. He groaned in frustration, turning to stare mindlessly at the blank wall. Italy tossed again, they were close. Too close. Germany could feel Italy's hot and damp breath on his neck and it made his head thrum with rushing blood. His heart has never pounded like this before, not even when they were in the office. This all felt too intimate, more intimacy than Germany could handle. Regardless, he wanted to see the Italian's resting face that seemed all too perfect. He wanted to stare at him more one time while he could. He sighed before turning back over to face Italy.
It was a mistake. Not a grave one--but still a mistake. He couldn't decide whether this was the best or worst decision he's ever made in his many years of living.
He was so beautiful. If he could, Germany would stare for ages. From the way Italy's brows furrowed in his sleep and the sharp breaths he took, to the way his tranquil face seemed it was sculpted by the hands of an angel. He loved it all, and now he thinks he won't have lived fully if he can't see it everyday.
He turned back around once again, his heart not being able to handle it. Fortunately for him it was a lot easier to go to sleep after that whole...situation. But god, did he wanna run his hands across Italy's body-
Germany woke up in a cold sweat to an exhilarated Italy cheering about how he finally woke up before Germany. "Germany! Germany!" He shook the German by the shoulder. Germany finally turned around, he was fuming. He only got two hours of sleep and Italy has the audacity to wake him up like this. Disrespectful.
"What!?" He shouted, throwing a pillow at Italy. "What do you want so early in the morning?" He sighed, rubbing his face in frustration. "I woke up before you for the first time!" He spun around happily. "Now get up so we can go get gelato! It's the weekend!" Italy dragged Germany out of bed by the arm, which ended up with Germany face planting into the floor. Safe to say, Italy was not safe.
"Italy!" He shouted angrily. The Italian shrieked and ran out of the room.
-----
The two men walk down a rather bustling street in Italy, Germany had to admit it was a nice country despite all the singing and dancing. He could go without that. Italy's melted, stracciatella gelato dripped down his hand, flowing into the crevices of his fingers. He tilted his head down, licking it up hungrily. The tasty liquid settled on the tip of his tongue. Of course Germany caught a glimpse of this and his face turned the same shade as his half-eaten gelato. Germany sighed internally, maybe The Roman Empire was right about masturbation being good for you. Because oh was Germany losing his mind and sleep over these stupid hormones.
That wasn't the only time Germany about lost his mind that day.
Maybe Germany's twisted mind was playing games with him...but Italy was more touchy-feely than usual. Which it's practically impossible for him to become even more affectionate, but Germany could tell there was something different about him today. The way he kept brushing up against Germany's arm and constantly hugging him from behind, and just staring at Germany with those trusting yet seductive eyes of his. Every time they locked eyes, Germany could see an unfamiliar glare in the Italian's orbs. One that made his heart rush.
Was Italy messing with him on purpose?
Whenever Germany got up to do something--only for a quick moment--Italy would whine and tell him to come back. He was closer than usual, too. Every time they sat on that couch together the German could feel the Italian's breath on him, and oh did it make him shudder. It made Germany want to be closer, so close they practically become one. This wasn't enough. Perhaps he was greedy, but he couldn't care less. But he must contain himself, he is supposed to stay composed, but Italy ruins every chance of him trying.
-----
"Germany~" The man said sweetly, his lips inches from the German's flushed ears. "Ja? What do you want-" Germany turned around to face the Italian, only to be met with a close proximity. Their lips were inches from each other, if Germany could just lean closer and- gott. It made his mind hazy. He couldn't think. The rhythmic thrumming in his ears made things barely audible
The flickering lights from the TV--which had long been ignored--lit up Italy's eyes. Germany could see the desperate look in the man's face, he could see the way his gaze followed the shape of Germany's lips.
He was doing this on purpose.
The thought made Germany's head spin with longing and need. He needed to touch Italy- or Italy touch him. It didn't matter he just needed to be closer.
How could Germany be such an oblivious fool?
"Italy.." He breathed out. Italy's mouth--which was once curved up into a smile--laid flat. His expressive eyes as nervous as Germany's. Italy hesitantly leaned in forward about a centimeter, his body stuttering. Was Germany really okay with this? He waited for him to pull away, waited for him to gaze at him with that disgusted look like he typically does when Italy annoys him. But he didn't, nor did he show any signs of discomfort.
The only thing Italy could see was the lustful look on his face, one that seemed to crave the same thing Italy craved. The same thing he inevitably would demand. Italy's hand trailed up behind the German's neck, grasping him--pulling him closer.
Finally.
Finally their desperate lips clashed together.
It wasn't rushed, nor aggressive. It was needy and sensual--and mutual. Germany kissed Italy back with matching haste and desperation. It was messy, only for the fact Germany has never really kissed anyone, or at least not like this.
Germany's hands wrapped around Italy's waist, pressing into him more. His large hands trailed up the Italian's back and into his hair, his fingers threading into the strands like a needle. He tugged at the man's hair with urgency. He needed to be inside him. He needed to become one with him.
He needed him badly.
Soon enough Italy opened his mouth, sucking in Germany's hungry, wandering tongue. The two tongues intertwined, wet saliva dripped down from Italy's drooling mouth. He didn't know if it was his, or Germany's. Nonetheless, he stuck his tongue out, licking it quickly before Germany demanded more.
"Italy." Germany muttered against the man's lips. He didn't so much as mutter, rather he whined. The thought of Italy making this usually so composed and nonchalant man whine with need. All because of him. It made his pants feel ever tighter.
Their lips soon parted, a string of saliva was the only thing that connected them. Italy wrapped his hand around Germany's wrist, dragging him up the stairs and into the bedroom. It was like his feet moved on their own, stumbling over each other as he pulled the door open.
Germany's mind was racing- just what was Italy planning? Were they going to make love? Germany wouldn't be a virgin anymore. Would he be the one inside Italy...or vice versa? How far were they going to go? He didn't know and it was killing him. If Germany was going...to be the one inside him how would he do that? He's not familiar on homoerotic sex. His heart pounded faster with every thought that drove in and out of his mind.
Before he knew it, Italy had thrown him onto the bed, the springs squeaked at the harsh movement. The Italian crawled on top of him and sucked on his neck. Trailing light, open-mouthed kisses down his jaw and onto his neck. He bit and lapped at his neck harshly, his intentions on marking the man very clear. Almost as if he was set on draining Germany soul. Not that Germany would complain, however.
As if instinctually, Germany placed his hands on Italy's head, encouraging him further. Italy continued his ministrations, peppering kisses all along Germany's neck, and sucking on the tip of his chin like a hungry leech. A gentle finger trailed down the German's chest as he palmed the hardness straining against Germany, digging his fingers into him. Naturally this made Germany inhale sharply, he surely didn't expect such a tingling sensation in his stomach. This was different then when he was by himself.
"Italy?" The Italian raised his head, albeit reluctantly. "Uhm...how far are we going to go exactly?" He questioned, his fingers fiddling with each other out of nervousness.
"How far do you want to go?" He said beneath his breath, his voice was lower than usual and it made Germany's stomach churn in the best way possible. "All the way." He answered honestly. He was beyond anxious, but any anxiety within him was easily washed away by the thought of being inside Italy.
Oh god they would finally become one.
Italy didn't respond, rather he slid off his top and undid the buttons on his jeans, tugging them off impatiently. His bulge so obviously strained against his boxers. He was soon only left in his underwear and knee-high socks, while his clothes pooled on the floor elsewhere.
-----
The both of them were soon dressed down to their undergarments with sensual kisses in between, mainly from Italy. "Germany-" Italy gasped as he grind down on Germany, their bulges sliding and rubbing against each other with such a sensation that made them unable to think straight. Slow, and gentle grinding soon turned to frantic humping with Italy clinging onto Germany desperately.
Germany did try his best to remain composed, but it didn't work in the slightest. He was also reduced to a whimpering fit, biting his knuckles to remain quiet. It was embarrassing he could be weakened so quickly, especially by someone like Italy. Italy slid his hand into the man's boxers, wrapping his slim hand around the girthy length. He started off slow, dragging his hand up down. It wasn't slick either, aside for the pre-cum that dripped down Germany's tip every now and then. So it hurt in the best way possible. His foreskin was pulled up and down with every gentle stroke.
Germany tried his best to not be greedy and thrust up into the godly hand, really he did. But his attempts were futile as he rutted up into Italy's hand. Italy leaned down once again, locking their lips together with a breathtaking kiss that further ignited their burning feelings. Italy's intoxicating stroking made Germany's chest rise up and down rapidly, he couldn't help the pathetic grunts that escaped his mouth as he closed his eyes out of pleasure.
"No. Look at me." The shorter man said with an enhancing, breathless voice. God...Italy was just as affected and that did something to Germany. As ordered, Germany opened his eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he was met with the beautiful sight of Italy's face, tears brimming his eyes. The moonlight seeped through the windows, cascading onto Italy's face. He was gorgeous, there was no doubt about it. For a second, Germany almost forgot what they were doing. But the feeling of Italy's thumb digging into his tip pulled him out of a trance. "Hah.." He breathed out.
"Germany, Germany." Italy panted, grinding his ass against the man's cock. "Please...I want to have you inside me." Italy turned over on his side to uncomfortably pull off his undergarments before straddling Germany's thighs once again. Germany felt he needed to do something, he needed to make Italy feel good. He can't be selfish.
He hesitantly raised his hand up to encase Italy's leaking cock. He watched Italy's pitiful expressions, the way his eyebrows twitched at each overwhelming sensation and the way cold tears feel down his face. He was awestruck to say the least, it was so alluring he couldn't keep his hands away. Italy slid two fingers inside Germany's agape mouth, feeling around each corner. Germany could taste the salt on his skin, he sucked as if he would never become tired of this. The German's strokes still remained tantalizingly slow, thumb rubbing over the tip as his wrist twisted at the top. Italy whimpered, thrusting into the pleasure.
Soon, Italy's fingers were coated in saliva, drool dripping off of each fingertip. He leaned forward against Germany's chest, pressing their sweaty bodies together. His fingers found their way to his rim, teasing himself before he pushed a finger in. It wasn't much, but it still felt mind-numbing. Italy gasped as he shoved another inside himself, the feeling around his fingers was so warm, warmer than any summer day in Italy.
The time soon came where Italy had three fingers inside of him, scissoring himself open. It was overwhelming--all of it. Germany's fingers wrapped around his twitching cock, and three fingers inside of him. It didn't help when Germany prodded a finger against Italy's hole, trying to push in one of his own.
He succeeded of course, it felt so good Italy didn't know how to refuse. Their thrusts matched pace, fingers crammed against each other, sliding in and out desperately. "Germany...I beg.." He cried out, struggling to get his fingertips beneath the waistband of the German's boxers
-----
After so damn long (not really), Italy tugged down Germany's boxers with haste. He stroked it a few times, spitting in his hand so it didn't hurt terribly "Italy...wait." He panted, turning to his bedside drawer to pull out a small bottle of lube. He squeezed out a copious amount, rubbing it along his girth--and Italy's. He may as well have used half of the bottle.
Italy finally had the chance to take a hold of the German's cock, hovering his hole over the tip as he carefully sunk himself down on the man's dick. He placed his hands on Germany's chest to steady himself, it was uncomfortable to say the least. Maybe even hurtful. But he had to go through with this.
With time, Germany was fully sheathed inside of him, struggling not to thrust up into the warm hole. He gritted his teeth, it was becoming difficult to control himself. But he must, for both his sake and Italy's sake. He whimpered with every slight move Italy made. Gott im Himmel--it felt amazing. Italy's hole and warmth was unlike anything else, unlike his own hand, it wasn't even close in comparison. Of his own volition, Italy started to move.
It was so delicious, if not for his mental strength, Germany would have finished.
Each upward thrust Germany gave met with Italy's backside, the soft sounds of skin colliding and heavy pants was like music to Germany's ears. Better than the music Austria played. The two soon fell into a pleasureful rhythm, it wasn't fast nor slow, or too rough. It was perfect for them, at least at the moment. They wanted to feel each other, not just their bodies but their emotions. The German was quickly overwhelmed, his brain turning to mush as Italy's walls addictingly dragged against his leaking cock.
"Hah Germany- Mio dio...please it's so good." Italy babbled, his back arched with a hand on Germany's sternum to keep up the pace. He bit his knuckles, which were turning red from the teeth grinding against the skin. Drool covered Italy's fingers as he breathed rapidly.
Germany was also struggling- of course. But he figured the two of them have been holding back for far longer than needed. Surely it was fine for him to please Italy however he wanted, right? He grabbed onto Italy's hips--which fit so perfectly in his large hands. He tugged Italy down with a not-so-gentle force every time he thrust upward, the head of his cock curling deliciously into Italy's prostate. He soon became relentless. He wanted- no needed more. He needed it so much it hurt.
Germany couldn't think straight, not that he could to begin with. The sight of Italy throwing his head backwards in pleasure, sweat dripping down his chest and the sweet symphony of his moans made it unbearable for Germany to hold his impending orgasm.
"Italy- Italy.." He grunted, his blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
"Please Germany, I'm close- please just a bit more. I beg-" Italy slurred, his voice dripping with need. He was so close, too close. One more direct thrust against that sweet spot inside of him would make him finish.
Germany panted, threading his fingers through Italy's hair and tugging gently, pulling him down to kiss him properly. Their tongues slid against each other, desperate moans quickly being swallowed with greed. Germany's once composed thrusts became unrhythmical and sporadic. Two more thrusts. One more harsh thrust.
The both of them came undone.
Italy whined into Germany's mouth as the force of his orgasm came washing through him, making him see white and hear bells. His cock spurted out tasteful juices against Germany's chest and stomach, it soon died down as little amounts of cum dripped down the tip of his twitching cock.
It hit Germany just as hard, if not harder. He groaned one last time as he thrust up into Italy, semen squirted out the tip of his cock, filling him up deliciously. It was unintentional, really. He meant to pull out.
Italy lay his body limp against Germany, the soft sounds of him panting filled the otherwise quiet room. Germany wrapped his arms tighter around Italy, as if he would run away if he let go. That would be unfair. Germany isn't typically vulnerable around people, because he never feels the need to. But around Italy, he just wants to lie in his arms, feeling the aftershocks of sex course through him. His skin tingled with satisfaction.
"Hey Germany," Italy whispered softly, his breath tickling Germany's flushed ear. "Ich liebe dich."
Germany's heart stopped beating at that moment, his breath caught in his throat. Really? Did Italy love him like that? Germany wasn't entirely familiar with what he was feeling, but he knew his heart pounded from a separate reason than the aftereffects of orgasm. Germany pictured himself being in a relationship with Italy. It seemed more appealing to him than anything else. Perhaps, he loved Italy back-- maybe even twice as much. "Ich auch.." He whispered.
"What's that mean?"
"...did you seriously only learn that one phrase?"
Italy chuckled, "Ve~ maybe I did. I thought it would be romantic, don't you like romance?"
"No that's France's thing, not mine." He sighed. Italy was amusing, for sure. He was annoying most of the time, but Germany enjoyed his presence more than he once originally thought.
"Buonanotte, Germany," Italy muttered, pecking Germany on the cheek before resting his head on his chest.
"Shouldn't we clean up?"
"Can't that wait for tomorrow?" Italy suggested.
"But I feel so sticky...and messy." He groaned in frustration, he hated feeling sticky more than he hated incompetence. "Just stay here.." Germany sighed, carefully moving Italy off of him. He stood up with aching legs, laying flat for so long isn't the best for him. He treaded to the bathroom to grab a wet towel, damp with cold water. He padded back in, the floor creaking under his heavy footsteps. He carefully wiped down the cum on his stomach, and on Italy's before he tenderly wiped down any of the excess cum on Italy's body.
"Sorry Italy...I meant to pull out." He slouched his shoulders, feeling a bit upset at himself. How could he be so careless? Italy turned onto his side, pulling Germany back into the bed. "I'll just sleep with it inside me. Please...lay down I want to cuddle." He furrowed his eyebrows, partially trying to guilt trip Germany into stepping back into the bed with him. Germany relented, crawling back under the thick sheets; intertwining his legs with Italy's. "You're too careless. Your stomach will hurt and then you'll complain tomorrow."
"Whatever. Stop complaining and just sleep...I'm tired too you know."
Germany huffed. "Fine. Guten Nacht, Italy."
"Hey I know that phrase."
"..be quiet."